


Kentledge Hall

by dassala



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 12:00:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 17
Words: 59,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16832221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dassala/pseuds/dassala
Summary: Orphaned as a teen, the beautiful Emma Swan has come into her own as she reached the age of coming out in society. She is one of the most promising young women on New York City's Upper West Side...until New Year's Eve 1915. A devastating attack changes her life forever.Killian Jones, a poor dock worker in England, gets the surprise of his life when an attorney appears and provides him with an estate and a title. The estate, however, comes with little money and is crumbling down around him. His attorney suggests a new strategy: find an American "Dollar Princess" to wed for the purpose of financing the restoration of Kentledge Hall.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ: This story will contain and reference (often) an implied rape. The actual deed is not detailed, but the aftermath is. Please take this into consideration as you read. Thank you.
> 
> Also, you may have read this one before. I'm re-posting it after having pulled it down to novelize it. Didn't work out, so I feel like the CS community should have it back. Thank you all for reading!

New York City - December 31st, 1915   


Awash in several glasses of Champagne, eighteen year-old Emma Swan had been easily tantalized into the Conservatory at the Vanderbilt Mansion during a New Year’s celebration, ringing in the year 1916. Despite the December chill, there was a lingering warmth in the Conservatory. Perhaps it was the drink, but Emma felt overjoyed for the promises of the new year.  


The young society darling and her date were surrounded by all manner of exotic plants and flowers, blooming in the moonlight. She, herself, was the most colorful thing in the room; she wore a gown of gold and black, covered with a wine-tinted gauze and cinched at the waist with a decorative band of gilded embroidery and mother-of-pearl. Her moonlit hair was tucked into a pile of curls, secured with a large gilded comb bedecked with pearls.   


Neal Cassidy, a young, handsome attorney from Delaware, was her tuxedoed date for the evening’s festivities and they had just managed to ditch Emma’s tipsy aunt Regina Mills back in the ballroom downstairs.   


Emma giggled with delight as Neal swung her around the tiled floor of the room, his arm wrapped around her back. They were dancing much closer than they would have been allowed at the party. She closed her eyes as Neal bowed his head to place kisses along the side of her neck, a smile spreading over her lips.   


“Mmm,” Emma moaned softly, sliding her fingers between his. “You really shouldn’t do that, you know.”  


Neal chuckled and let his lips find hers. He walked her backward until her calves came to a stop against the end of a chaise longue. “Why shouldn’t I?” He asked against her lips. “I’m going to marry you, Emma, my dear.”  


The idea made her giddy. A grand wedding with all sorts of fanfare and a milky-white gown of everything in the finest, her best friends all with large bouquets of white roses and lily-of-the-valley…it was everything Emma wanted. And Neal was such an entertainment to her over the past few months. Lavish dinners, ferry rides, and even a day at Luna Park in Brooklyn where he had won her a small pink porcelain figurine. He really knew how to woo a girl. He grasped her by the waist and carefully laid her back onto the chaise, taking a seat dangerously close to her.  


“Neal, please,” Emma whispered, blushing profusely, “no, stop that…someone will see you and think the worst.”  


“With me, it will hardly be the worst, darling. Don’t you want me, Emma?” He asked. The music downstairs grew louder, and Emma knew they must be nearing midnight.   


“After we marry, of course,” she insisted, moving her hands to his shoulders to push gently.  


“What difference does it make, my love?” He grinned and kissed her hard, his hand grasped a fistful of her luxurious skirts and lifted them quickly up around her waist. She gasped against his lips, feeling exposed to the world. Furiously, she pushed at his meandering hand, then tried to pull her skirts back down, but to no avail. He climbed atop her body, pressing her down into the chaise and rendering her completely prone. Neal’s hands were then on her wrists, which he pinned above her head with just one hand. “Just enjoy yourself…” he told her as she heard his belt buckle clinking below. Emma closed her eyes and cried out for help amongst the loud ten-second countdown which dully sounded from the floor underneath them.  


\--  


“Has the doctor come?” It was barely six o’clock in the morning, and the Swan household was buzzing with activity. Ruby Bane was below stairs, hurrying through the halls with a bundle of blood-stained bedsheets.   


“He’s here,” a housemaid answered as she pulled the bundle from Ruby’s hands. “Just went up to Miss Swan’s room. Is she going to be okay?”  


As Emma’s ladies’ maid, Ruby was closer to her than any of the household staff. In fact, the pair had been playmates as children, when Mr. and Mrs. Swan were still living. With a deep, shuddering sigh, Ruby swiped at her reddened eyes and nodded. “She’s stronger than you know.”  


There was no way her maid would be permitted in the room while the doctor performed his examination. All Ruby knew was that Emma had tried to put up a fight when that blaggard had attacked her. As a result, she had taken quite a beating.   


Shoving hard on the door to the alleyway behind the Swan house, Ruby exited the stifling hot hallway near the kitchens and stepped into the snow-covered silence of winter. The chill in the air was more than welcome as she sucked in a deep breath, doing her best to eliminate the fire in her belly. More than anything, Ruby wanted to kill Neal Cassidy.   


“It’s ‘er own fault, you know,” came a voice from the other side of the doorway. Ruby jumped slightly, startled from her murderous thoughts.   


“What?” The tall brunette’s brows furrowed as she turned to look at the older woman in the alley.  


Tapping on a hand-rolled cigarette, the woman chuckled slightly. She picked a bit of dried tobacco from her lip and raised the cigarette to her lips once more. “It’s ‘er own fault. What d’you suppose she thought, goin’ off in private with ‘im? Girl does that, she gets what comin’ to ‘er.”   


Ruby’s gaze narrowed at the woman. Cora Xavier was Miss Mills’ maid, and the two of them had never gotten along. She supposed Xavier, as was her proper name around the Swan estate, had been somewhat of a looker when she was younger, but the years had been hard on her. Rumor was that she had a grown daughter that she gave up before entering service. Perhaps that was the reason for her venomous tone.  


“Miss Swan did not deserve this. She had no idea what he intended to do,” Ruby spat back, kicking at a clod of dirty snow beneath her feet. “Don’t you dare say it again.”  


With a chuckle, then a dry, raspy cough, Cora nodded. “I’m just tellin’ ya, a man’s not to be trusted. Thinks only with what he’s got in his trousers.”  


Nodding slowly, Ruby took in another breath and pulled her shawl more tightly around her shoulders. “You’ve got that part right.”  


\--  


It took a month before Emma was healed enough to leave the house. Despite his promises, Emma had not heard from her attacker since that night; a blessing she appreciated more than her aunt did. Her body had mended, with most of the stitches having been removed and the bruises on her face having faded. She feared, however, that her nightmares would not ever cease.   


One early February afternoon, Emma was arm-in-arm with Regina as they exited a shop on Fifth Avenue. Her aunt had insisted that a handful of new frocks would certainly cheer her up, and it would most definitely help her make her grand return to the New York social scene. As they moved toward the car, a fancy new contraption Regina had purchased in the new year, Emma spotted her former classmate Tamara Wilson hurrying along the icy sidewalks.  


A smile finally cracking her stoic features, Emma waved, calling out to her old schoolmate. Tamara looked up at Emma and began to smile, then quickly diverted her gaze, giving a nod, rather than a wave in return. The raven-haired young woman pulled her coat more tightly around herself, hiding her face in a plush fur collar as she ducked into the nearby stationers’ shop. Emma frowned and glanced at Regina, whose eyes narrowed.   


“She went to school with you, didn’t she?” Regina asked suspiciously.  


Emma simply nodded and stared into the store as they walked by. “Yes, she did. I…I thought she was a friend.”  


Regina harrumphed and hurried Emma toward the waiting Model T and gave the driver direction to get them home.  


It was only after a few telephone calls that Regina was able to uncover the reason behind the coldness of Emma’s friend. Tamara Wilson was newly engaged to the philandering Neal Cassidy, who had told most of New York City society a false and lascivious version of what occurred at the Vanderbilt mansion. He was spending a majority of his time, it seemed branding Emma Swan as a wanton harlot.  


Devon, England - February 1916  


It had been an average Friday evening, just ten minutes after his shift had let out, that Mr. Archibald Hopper, Esquire, had come into Killian Jones’s life. The nervous-looking man with frizzy ginger curls and round tortoise-shell spectacles, which always seemed to be sliding down his nose, had walked into the pub nearest the docks in Plymouth. Killian was seated at the bar, toying with the empty pint in front of him. He had been batting around the idea of ordering another, but even those few pence would eat into his rent for the next month.  


“E-excuse me, are you Mr. Jones?” Mr. Hopper had asked, pushing his glasses upward on his nose. A black umbrella was tucked beneath his arm, and he held a bound bunch of documents in the opposite hand.  


“Mr. Jones was my father,” Killian smirked, shaking his head. “Whatever it is, I’m sure I’ve settled my debt.”  


Mr. Hopper took a seat next to Killian and placed the documents down on the bar. “Um, Mr. Jones, my name is Archibald Hopper, and I’m an attorney. I’ve come from New York. Your cousin, The Most Honorable Bertram Jones, has passed away, I’m sorry to tell you.”  


Glancing over at the man, Killian’s eyebrow raised. “New York? Didn’t know I had a cousin Bertram in New York.”  


“He was the son of your mother’s estranged elder brother. Your cousin was merely visiting New York at the time of his death, actually, and had recently drafted documents to secure his estate. I was given the task of finding the heir to his title and estate,” Mr. Hopper continued, “And you’re the next in line, it seems.”  


Killian eyed the empty pint. “Buy me a pint and go on, Mate,” he was intrigued.  


\--  


“You what?” Hefting a large box up onto the dock, Killian’s best friend Robin paused. He leaned against the docks and scratched at the back of his head with dirty hands. “Are you joking with me?”  


“No,” Killian laughed. He shook his head and shifted nervously on his feet. “I put in my notice. This is real, Mate. I’m moving to Derbyshire, and I need someone with me. Might go mad if I try to fit in with all the society folk on my lonesome.”  


“And what do you suppose I’m gonna do there?” Crossing his arms over his chest, Robin narrowed his gaze at his friend. “You want me to be your servant or something?”  


Shoving his hands into his pockets, he sighed. “Look, I thought maybe you’d like to work for me, but if you don’t, you can stay. You wanted to drive those autos, didn’t you? Could probably use a chauffeur. It’s a right smart job, you know,” Killian gestured over his shoulder. Sunday afternoon and the local muckity-mucks were unloading from their cars into St. John the Baptist church. Their chauffeurs stood by the emptied vehicles, looking rather dapper in pressed livery and new caps.  


Glancing up at the chauffeurs, Robin exhaled slowly. “What’ve I got to lose?”   


With a grin, Killian shook his friend’s hand and firmly. “Nothin’, mate. Neither of us have anything to lose.”  


\--  


A few hours in a Post carriage, and Killian had arrived at his new home. The towering limestone brick walls were green with a mix of mildew and overgrown ivy. He could vaguely see the glint of dirty windows through the twisted vines. Still, the place was more comfortable-looking than anywhere Killian had ever lived. An elderly man appeared in the doorway, shuffling his way across the gravel drive toward him. A few more crunches of stone sounded behind him as Mr. Hopper and Robin Locksley exited the vehicle. Robin gave a low whistle.  


That evening in the pub, Mr. Hopper had informed working-class Killian Jones that he was the lone heir to the title of Marquess of Matlock. Along with the title came an estate in the Peak District, called Kentledge Hall. Despite a fancy title and a large home, his cousin Bertram had spent quite a lot of money in New York City, wasting away the profits of the estate and neglecting his ancestral duties. He had no direct line to speak of, considering most of his time was spent with whores and socialites of the less-than-desirable type. The old man had passed away in his sleep after a night of partying, leaving the estate solely to an obscure cousin in Devonshire. Killian could have denied the meager inheritance and let his family’s estate languish further, as well as let the title go extinct. There was a sense of pride in him, however, that urged him into adopting the title and bringing the estate back to greatness. The only problem was money. A man of the nobility could hardly work to bring money to the estate, and it was unlikely that he would be awarded any money from any other sources.   


The old man made his way out toward the trio. He gave a low bow.   


“Your Lordship,” the man addressed Killian. Robin snorted.  


With a glance at his friend, Killian glared, then looked back to the old man. “Aye, that’d be me. Uh, you can call me Killian, though.”  


“Hardly,” the man chuckled. He stood to his full height once more. “My name is Mr. Gold. I’m the butler here at the estate. Welcome to Kentledge Hall.”  


“Pleasure, mate,” Killian grinned and offered his hand to shake. The old man looked down at it and cleared his throat before tentatively shaking it.  


Mr. Hopper stepped forward. “Gold, would you be so kind as to take us to the study, please?”  


With a bow of his head, Gold turned and led them into the house. The interior of the large home was in no better shape than the exterior. Walls were cracked with age and wear, and the tapestries on the walls were faded. A few corners of the once-beautiful rugs were tattered. The furniture was mostly covered in white sheets, hidden from view.   


“I take it that old Bertie hadn’t been here in a while,” Killian muttered, following with the group of men toward an open door near the East side of the home.  


“His Lordship preferred to remain upstairs and had very few guests. He had not the time or willingness to host visitors,” Gold replied, gesturing in through the doorway. “Would you like some tea, sir?”  


Having stepped into the well-lit room, Killian looked over the walls, shelved floor to ceiling with leather-bound volumes of exotic novels. He glanced at a dingy marble fireplace, in which a blaze crackled softly. The furniture in this room had been uncovered. It was ornate and lavish, with intricately-carved woodwork and velvety upholstered seats. After a moment, Mr. Hopper cleared his throat. Killian glanced back at him.  


“Mr. Gold asked if you’d like some tea, your Lordship,” Mr. Hopper smiled awkwardly.  


He had assumed the question was posed to Mr. Hopper and not himself. It was not usual for him to answer to ‘sir’ in any circumstance. With an embarrassed smirk, he nodded. “Yeah, sure. Great. Thanks.”  


Gold shuffled off down the hallway and Mr. Hopper gestured to a long table near the windows. The three men all had a seat in fairly comfortable chairs.   


“Thank you for coming,” Mr. Hopper smiled, again nudging his spectacles higher on his nose, “I had been kind of afraid that you’d deny your inheritance. It’s quite a lot to take in.”  


“Not sure what man would turn down this,” Killian chuckled, leaning back in his chair. He picked at his fingernails.   


Mr. Hopper looked at Robin and shifted in his seat. “I’m afraid…that you don’t quite understand the situation the estate is in. It’s almost destitute, Mr. Jones.”  


“It’s what?” Leaning forward, Killian folded his arms on the expensive mahogany table. “Sorry, I…”  


“Poor,” Robin explained, speaking for the first time since they had arrived. “It means ‘poor’, mate. You inherited a big, broken house with no money to fix it.”  


Killian glanced to Mr. Hopper for confirmation. Mr. Hopper offered only a sad smile. “I’m sorry to say he’s right.”  


Thinking for a long moment, the heir to the estate took in a deep breath. He stared blankly at the table. “So, what do I do?”  


Opening his briefcase, Mr. Hopper pulled out a newspaper and a few documents in a folder. “Well, I have an idea, if you would like to hear it.”  


When Killian looked to his friend, Robin shrugged. Again, what had they to lose?  



	2. Chapter 2

New York City, March 1916   


It seemed no amount of insistence about the truth was going to remove the stigma from Emma’s name. She spent night after night staring out her window, gazing at the burgeoning electric lights which spread daily from one building to another. It was a vibrant, exciting time in New York City, and Emma was now confined to her room with self-pity. It did not matter to anyone that the act Neal had committed upon her was entirely his doing and none of hers; the people of New York society were all gossip-hungry and quick to dismiss the claims of a young woman.   


There was a knock at Emma’s bedroom door. Engrossed in a book she had mail-ordered, Emma lazily called for the visitor to enter. Ruby entered the room. She placed a few recently-pressed gowns into Emma’s closet, then turned, smoothing out her apron. “Ms. Mills asked to see you for dinner tonight, Miss Swan. May I tell her you will be there?” Ruby asked politely, as usual. Ruby was honestly more of a friend and companion than a servant. Protocol said she was to call the maid by her last name of ‘Bane’, but Emma found the practice antiquated. She would much rather refer to Ruby by her Christian name. No amount of pleading, however, could coax the young woman to do the same for her. It was always ‘Miss Swan’.   


“Yes, I’ll come down. What time am I expected?” Emma asked, glancing at an ivory-faced clock above the crackling fireplace in her room.  


“Six o’clock, Miss Swan,” Ruby nodded. “I’ll advise Mr. Marco that a place should be set for you.”  


“Thank you, Ruby,” Emma sighed and turned the page in her book, allowing herself to drift back into the story before her. The stubborn and independent Elizabeth Bennet reminded her of herself. She wished so much that she could go back to that night and deny Neal’s request to go to the Conservatory. She should have remained with Regina. Elizabeth Bennet would most certainly have denied the man and remained with her sister, Jane. Emma considered herself a fool.  


As the clock struck six, Emma appeared in the dining room and gave a curtsey to her aunt, who sat at the head of the table.   


“Emma,” Regina smiled, patting the seat next to her. “Come, sit. I have news.”  


Emma highly doubted that any news could tempt her out of this permanent mood, but she would listen to it, nonetheless. Perhaps Neal had been hit by one of those automobiles.  


“I was reading the paper today, and I came across a most curious advertisement,” Regina said as the wine was poured for the two of them.  


“All of these electric healing devices seem like a joke, Aunt,” Emma sighed, reaching for her glass. “I hardly believe anything will bring back youth and beauty just because it’s got electricity flowing through it.”  


Regina rolled her eyes at her niece. “No, no,” she waved away the thought with a flick of her hand. “There was a number for an attorney who has just returned from London. He represents a man in England who is on the hunt for a wife.”  


A footman served a plate of beef and some sort of vegetable in a creamy sauce. Emma poked at it with her fork before looking at her aunt. “And you’re considering selling yourself to a man in England?” Regina had sworn off the idea years prior, when her fiancé Daniel had passed away suddenly.  


“Not me, Emma,” Regina eyed her niece. “I’d like you to consider a trip to England to meet with the man. It could be an escape from all of the whispers here.”  


Her fork dangled a bit of the roast beef as she turned her head to stare at her aunt. An arranged marriage? Emma would hardly stand for such a thing. She was an heiress and should be allowed to marry for love. It was only poor women who were ever sucked into arranged marriages. Her brow furrowed. “What makes you think I want to marry some stranger in England?”  


“He’s a Marquess,” Regina said after a moment, keeping her tone gentle as not to stir up the furious cyclone of anger and sadness she had seen in her niece over the past few months. “That’s one step below a Duke. With a title comes an estate. Apparently he’s a very busy man with need of a wife as soon as possible, and he simply has no time to go looking for one in society there.”  


“Excellent. Busy is exactly the quality I look for in a husband,” Emma rolled her eyes and took a bite of the beef, making a face. The food had not been stellar at home as of late. Perhaps it was her appetite.  


“Emma, listen,” Regina urged her, leaning forward as the servants poured more wine for both of the women. “You would be back in society with no mention of what happened here. No one over there cares for American gossip. Plus, you’d be a married woman. And who, honestly, can say a married woman is…”  


“…Ruined?” Emma finished for her, dropping her fork to the table. She dabbed at her mouth with the napkin and stood, grabbing the wine. She turned to the footman behind her and took the decanter from his hand, raising both to Regina. “The ruined one will be in her room, drinking until she falls asleep. If you come up with any other brilliant arranged marriage ideas, feel free to go ahead and forget them.”   


Regina leaned back in her chair and watched Emma storm off to her room. With a heavy sigh, she rubbed at her temples and shook her head. There had to be a way to get Emma out of there which suited her sensibilities. This deal was far too convenient to ignore. She would call Mr. Hopper again in the morning and discuss details.  


\--  


A month later, and Emma found herself staring at the hulking steamer ship in front of her. A shiver ran down her spine just looking at the thing. Her parents had died in a death trap just like this one, just four years earlier. The Titanic had gone down just days before it was due to arrive at the very pier where she was standing. Her mother and father had been on the hunt for a summer home near London for three weeks and Emma had been eagerly awaiting their return. She was fifteen years old, and her parents had promised a lavish debut party for her when they came home. Instead, her entire family was lost to the icy depths of the Atlantic.  


Aunt Regina had come from Philadelphia following the death of her younger sister. She immediately took upon herself all of the duties of the Swan household, arranging memorial services and handling every bit of the estate’s management. She was a kind woman, although ambitious to a fault, and she absolutely wanted the best of everything for her niece. Emma had high regards for her aunt, even if she was a little strict when it came to Emma’s social engagements.  


A fur stole was placed over Emma’s shoulders. She glanced to her side as Ruby stepped up, offering an encouraging smile.   


“I know what you’re thinking, Miss,” Ruby said softly. “These are much safer now, you know.”  


Emma simply nodded. Regina and Cora approached, and Emma noted that Regina’s smile seemed forced, as well.   


“Well, shall we board? The sooner we get there, the sooner we can get on dry land again,” Regina offered. She stepped onto the gangplank, followed by Cora, who seemed somewhat weighed down by the large hatboxes and handbags she carried. Ruby patted Emma’s shoulder softly and nodded. The two followed up onto the ship. The knot in Emma’s stomach seemed unlikely to unravel until they had reached England.  


\--  


With a knock at the door to her stateroom, Emma glanced up. Regina stepped inside with a gentle smile. “How are you?” She asked, moving to take a seat on the brass vanity chair.   


Emma shrugged. The ship had departed from New York hours ago, but Emma had not had a stomach for a meal. The rocking of the ship upon the waves made her feel ill.  


“Alright, I suppose,” Emma sighed. She closed her book and placed it aside. “You’re sure we can come home if I don’t like him?”  


“Absolutely,” Regina reached forward and grasped her niece’s hand. “Emma, I appreciate you taking this chance. But I will absolutely not force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”  


With a slight smile, Emma nodded. She cleared her throat. “Did Mr. Hopper say anything about him? Is he…an older man? Has he been married before? Does he have children?”  


Regina frowned slightly. “All he said was that he was eager to meet you,” she sighed. “I don’t know if he was at liberty to give me any more information than that. Don’t worry, we’ll find everything out when we arrive in a few days.”  


Emma took in a deep breath and glanced to the porthole in her room. The sun was setting behind the ship, giving a warm glow to the waters outside. She was almost certain they would be making the journey back to New York in no time.  


Kentledge Hall – March 1916  


“What if she’s ugly?” Robin asked, bringing Killian out of a thoughtful reverie as he stared out the study’s window. The gardens on the East side of the estate were overgrown, but a few yellow roses had begun to bloom with the weather growing warmer.  


“Then I’ll let you have a go at her, since that’s your type,” Killian teased his friend, who flung a wad of paper at him. “I don’t know. I’ll just hope for the best. If not, I’ll scrape up what I can and go to London for…the season, I think they call it? Someone there is bound to want a title.”  


“Best of luck, Mate,” Robin stood, tipping his hat to his friend. “If it doesn’t work out, we can always go back to mucking out bilges in Devonshire.”  


Killian groaned. He glanced at the desk in the corner, where a pile of invoices was growing each day. He had half a mind to tell Gold to stop bringing in the post. Stepping to the small bar in the study, he poured himself some rum from the crystal decanter. Although he lived in minor opulence compared to what he had owned before, the amount of debt was rising daily for Kentledge Hall. “How do these damned bills keep coming? I’ve not even spent all that much money.”  


“I think it just comes with being the owner of an estate,” Robin stated, puffing on a cigarette. “Sorry you had to inherit such a shite one.”  


Rolling the kinks out of his neck, Killian leaned against the windowsill and took a sip from his tumbler. He frowned and licked the sweet liquor from his lips. “Better than what we used to have. Although sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I’d have turned Hopper down. Told him I didn’t want this mess.”  


“You’d’ve been a right fool, you know that?” Robin shook his fingers at his friend. “To go from being a dock hand to a Marquess overnight is a blessing that most people will never have. Despite the debt that came with this particular estate. I still say you should sell off the house and live like a king in London.” The thought had occurred to Killian Jones more than once.  


\--  


In the days before Miss Swan’s expected arrival, the minimal staff at Kentledge had spent their time cleaning and refreshing the estate as much as possible. A bit of the wilderness in the rose gardens had been removed, and the cobwebs had been brushed away from the corners of public rooms. All of the furniture was uncovered, the rugs beneath them beaten to remove the dust, and the pillows immaculately fluffed. Killian had taken Gold’s advice and ordered some lavish dinners on what credit the estate had left. All of the preparation had led up to the arrival of Miss Swan, announced a couple of hours ahead of time by telegram.   


“This is ridiculous,” Killian muttered, looking at his outfit in the mirror. He tugged slightly on the tie. He had not once in his life worn a suit, and now here he was, in a full fancy getup. He adjusted the tweed vest around his midsection and smoothed it down, examining himself for a moment.   


“You look rather dapper,” Robin smirked. He was, himself, wearing a livery uniform they had managed to borrow from a neighboring estate. Kentledge Hall had been left with a bare-bones staff, none of whom were close enough to Killian to perform the duty of valet for him. Robin, therefore, had stepped up to the challenge. Killian was not sure this much ribbing was supposed to come along with the job. Holding out the Marquess’s jacket, Robin grinned ear-to-ear. “On you go. She’ll be here any minute.”  


Killian slid his arms into the fine suit jacket and released a slow breath, brushing some of his hair back slightly from his face. He had slicked it back, but the feel was all off. If he was going to be anyone to meet this Emma Swan, he was going to be himself. Albeit in a monkey suit.  


The sound of tires on the gravel drive made his heart race. Moving to the window, he peeled back a curtain and looked down onto the circular driveway, where Gold was patiently waiting. He stepped forth and opened the car door. Killian’s breath caught in his chest to see a dark-haired older woman step from the vehicle, nodding respectfully to the butler. She was elegant-looking, to be sure, but a little beyond his own years. Turning back to Robin, he cringed.   


Robin peered around his friend, both eyebrows lifting. “She’s a looker, Chap,” he grinned. “Lucky you.”  


Killian’s nose wrinkled and he moved to the door, readying himself to stroll casually down the steps, as if he had any idea as to what he was doing. He waited until they were inside, then began heading down.  


The older woman wore a gown of wine-colored satin with a blue overcoat and large-brimmed hat. He came down the final step on the staircase and moved toward her, reminding himself to keep his hands out of his pockets.  


“Miss Swan, I presume?” He offered a hand to the woman, who laughed.  


“Actually, I’m Regina Mills, Emma’s aunt,” she corrected him and took the hand, dipping slightly in respect as she gripped it with her fingertips. “You must be Lord Matlock.”  


Killian was both relieved and disappointed. He forced a smile and nodded to her, glancing over her shoulder to see where Gold had gone. “Aye – that would be me. I’m sorry, I was under the impression that Miss Swan would be coming.”  


Regina’s eyebrow crooked slowly. “You thought she would come alone? She’s on her way in, with your Butler. Had to freshen up, you see.” Her eyes moved down, then back up his person, examining the young man in front of her. “It’s been an arduous journey.”  


“Of course,” he blushed. He looked around and cleared his throat. “Um, welcome to Kentledge Hall.”  


“Thank you,” Regina nodded again. Gold entered the room and cleared his throat.   


“Presenting Miss Emma Swan of New York, my Lord,” Gold gave a bow and stepped away from the door.   


A young woman entered the room, parasol at her side, in a gown of pale blue. Her hair was up atop her head, small tendrils of blonde curls grazing the back of her neck. She had well-defined cheekbones and the most perfect set of pink lips he had ever seen. Soft green eyes gazed at him through dark lashes. He was absolutely gobsmacked by her intense beauty. She paused inside the grand hall and there was a moment of awkward silence as they took in the sight of one another.  


Emma gazed for a long moment at the man before her. He was most certainly not the old codger she had expected to meet. He was young and attractive, which surprised her. His hair was a very dark brown, but the stubble along his jaw had a touch of reddish orange to it. His warm blue eyes drew her attention most of all, their expression one of surprise and a touch of sadness. His body was lean, but seemed to be strong beneath his jacket.   


Gold coughed into his hand conspicuously. Killian snapped out of his reverie stepped forward, finding his voice. “Miss Swan, it…is a pleasure to meet you at last.”  


Emma curtseyed low, then came to a standing position before she spoke. “Your Lordship,” she replied, forcing a smile. “Thank you for inviting us into your home.”  


Swallowing hard, Killian nodded and looked around. Gold again came to his rescue.  


“Tea has been prepared in the sitting room, my Lord. Shall I escort the party there?” The old man asked, his strong Scottish accent peeking through.   


“Aye. Um, I mean yes, please do,” Killian responded. As Emma and Regina turned to follow the butler, Killian glanced up at the top of the staircase. Robin was leaning down over one of the banisters, mouthing ‘Wow’. Killian nodded in agreement with wide eyes. He turned and hurried toward the sitting room, adjusting his jacket.  


Emma examined the sitting room as they entered. Large tapestries, bleached pale by sunlight, hung on the walls. She noted the outdated wallpaper between them, and the faded draperies which flanked the windows. Gold pulled the curtains aside and illuminated the room with the afternoon sun. A large chandelier hung above them, with wax candles amidst the dangling leaded crystals. The house had not yet been electrified, like so many things in America had been.  


“Please forgive me,” he Killian muttered as he watched Emma taking in her surroundings. “I…have only just moved in here, and the place is not quite up to snuff, I’m afraid.” He seemed to consider his words carefully before he spoke, and even frowned in regret after he had finished.  


Emma’s eyebrow raised at him. “You were not raised here?” She had assumed the ancestral title had come with the estate. It was strange to think he had not lived in the home for long.  


Killian glanced at Regina, who smiled with embarrassment. “Mr. Hopper was not…forthcoming about you and your background, your Lordship,” she looked over at her niece, who was removing her hat carefully. “Emma and I are quite in the dark about you.”  


“Ah,” Killian smiled awkwardly, nodding. “Well, I’ve just inherited the title. From a distant cousin, it seems. He passed away in New York a few months ago. Sugar?”  


“One,” Emma replied, watching him fumble with the sugar tongs. She glanced up at Gold, who stood by awkwardly, as if he wanted to assist, but he allowed the young man to do the serving on his own. “Milk, please.”  


“Oh, right,” he poured some milk into her tea as well and held it out to her, leaning in a somewhat informal manner. She noticed a bit of a shake to his hand as the teacup rattled upon the saucer.   


Emma took the tea and smiled slightly. “So, before you became Lord Matlock, what did you do? Summer in Biarritz?” She felt Regina stiffen at her side, obviously irritated with her niece’s flippant attitude.  


Killian swallowed hard. He glanced at Gold, who was unable to save him this time. “I was a dock worker in Plymouth, ma’am,” he answered honestly.  


An awkward silence filled the room, and Gold took the opportunity to duck out the door. Emma stared at Killian, perplexed. She had assumed he would be rather stuck-up, raised in a wealthy family in the English gentry. Instead, she was met with an ordinary man. The cautiousness in his language suddenly made sense. He was, just as Emma herself, a complete stranger to his own purpose in life. “Oh,” she simply replied, sipping from her tea. She was unable to come up with any further response.  


Regina was desperate to get past the hiccup. Perhaps the formality of the room was stifling the conversation. She knew that leaving Emma alone with him was a poor idea, given her attitude towards being alone with men, so she would have to find a way to escape them without being too far away. Clearing her throat, Regina put her teacup down on the small table. “It seemed there was a nice little garden off to the East side of the house, your Lordship. Might we take a stroll in it?”  


Relief washed over Killian. The outdoors seemed much less confining to him. He stood with a nod and awkwardly offered his arm to Emma. She glanced to Regina, then stood and slid her gloved hand onto the young man’s forearm. The warmth of his body, so close to hers, was unnerving for her. She swallowed hard and walked alongside him, fighting the anxious pounding of her heart. She could tell, though, that he was also unnerved about the situation. Regina followed behind as they exited the house, turning into the small rose garden.   


“I’m very sorry, Miss Swan,” Killian said softly, “I had no idea that you were unaware of my…past.”  


Emma looked over at him, taking in his profile. He seemed to be flustered by her, a fact which made her blush. And he seemed to have a kind soul, as far as she could tell. Not at all what she had expected when Regina had raised the issue.  


“Everyone has one, your Lordship,” she replied softly, giving him a genuine smile for the first time.   


Killian noted sadness in her eyes as she spoke. He hoped he was not the cause of it. He paused and released her arm to bend slightly, picking up a trimmed yellow rose Gold had dropped when gathering flowers for the house. He turned and handed her the rose. “Beautiful. It’s the same color as your hair,” he noted, lifting the rose to her.  


Emma averted her gaze, but took the rose from his hand, smelling it with a smile. “Thank you.” She twisted the rose slightly in her gloved grasp. Her stomach did a flip as she realized Regina had fallen back from them, taking a seat on a bench some yards away.  


His jaw clenching, he examined her for a moment, then took a deep breath. “I…do not wish to waste your time. You know, Miss Swan, why I had Mr. Hopper place the advertisement in the papers, I um, presume?”  


Now that they were in close proximity, Emma had a better look at his eyes. They were a soft, yet vibrant blue, similar to that of the sea. Despite her dislike of the ocean, the hue almost relaxed her, and she nodded slowly. “My aunt…informed me…that you are in want of a wife.”  


He nodded. “I want to be completely open with you. This estate is destitute. I have inherited a run-down house and very little money,” he confessed. “So more than anything, I’m looking for…a business partner. Someone who wants to help me bring this estate back to life.”  


Honesty was a virtue, most definitely. She admired that he was telling her about the estate’s situation. Thinking for a moment, she let her tongue flick out over her lips to wet them. “A business partner,” she repeated. “You’d be marrying for money. And…your bride, presumably, would be marrying you to become a Marchioness.” Despite his honesty, she kept to herself on the true motives for allowing her aunt to answer the advertisement on her behalf.  


Killian’s smile was obviously sad. He nodded slowly. “Aye, yes, precisely. I hate for things to be like this.”  


“As do I,” Emma agreed. She took in a deep breath and slid her hand back onto his arm, turning to continue to walk through the garden. “But things are what they are. Sometimes we must make do with what we are given.”  


He remained silent for a moment as they walked. Finally, he worked up the nerve to ask the question nagging at him. “Is that…are you agreeing to the arrangement?”  


Pursing her lips, Emma glanced over at him. “I…your Lordship,” she began, a blush in her cheeks, “I did not quite know the…question had been posed.”  


“Killian,” he said softly, turning his head to look back at her. “Please, call me Killian. And if you will have me, Miss Swan, I would very much like to go into business with you.”  


Emma looked at the hope in his eyes. It stirred a flutter in her chest, and she glanced over at Regina, who was pretending to be flipping through a small novel she had brought to read on the journey. The smirk on her aunt’s lips told her that the woman’s attention was not being paid to the story. Looking back at Killian, she nodded slowly. “Yes, I…I agree to the arrangement.”  


The smile that spread across his features had more genuine joy in it than she had seen since their meeting. He took her right hand and pressed his lips to the back of her white leather kid glove. “Thank you. I promise do to everything I can to make you comfortable here.”  


Surprisingly, Emma did not flinch as he kissed her hand. Instead, she offered a smile in return.  


\--  


“Well,” Regina trilled, stepping into the bedroom she had been assigned. She grinned broadly. “I certainly did not expect him to propose to you so soon after our arrival. And to top it all off, you accepted!” The older woman was positively delighted. Emma rolled her eyes as she tugged away her white leather gloves. “If I knew you would be this happy about it, I’d have said no.” She teased her aunt.  


“First things first, I’ll send off to Lady Duff Gordon for a gown. We must have the very best, you know,” Regina began listing off tasks for the wedding. Emma took a seat near the window and gazed out over the courtyard, tuning out the rambling of her guardian. In her bare fingers, she slowly twisted the rose Killian had given to her. Just hours in England, and she was suddenly engaged to be married. All of Emma’s young life, she had dreamt of a storybook wedding and a blessed marriage with many beautiful children. Instead, she was saddled with obligation, rather than romance.  


With one conversation, Emma had just sold her life and her dearly departed father’s fortune to a handsome stranger.   



	3. Chapter 3

“Even if it hadn’t have worked out, Madam,” Cora mused to Regina her as she pulled her hair up atop her head, “there’s plenty of titled gentlemen here looking for money, I’m told. Though I doubt they’re quite so handsome as Lord Matlock.”  


“We’ll keep that in mind in case anything falls through,” Regina replied, grabbing her gloves from the vanity in front of her and handing them to the maid to put away. “Did we bring my tortoiseshell hairpin, Xavier?”  


It had been only a couple of days since Emma and Regina had made firm plans to remain in England, to prepare for Emma’s wedding to Lord Matlock. Almost the entire house in New York had been packed up and was being sent by steamer across the Atlantic.  


The maid turned and dug through a bag until she found the pin in question with a smile of triumph. She placed the pin into Regina’s hair. “There now,” Cora said with a grin, “You look well enough to be a Lady yourself.”  


“Hardly,” Regina sighed and stood, smoothing down her taupe day-dress. “Now, Emma and I will interview in the study. We’ve much to get done before this wedding, and we are in desperate need of staff to assist us.”  


“Of course, Madam,” Cora nodded with a smile. She busied herself with unpacking more of Regina’s things as Regina departed.  


\--  


“You’ve got to be the luckiest dog I’ve ever met,” Robin grinned at his friend. He was kicked back on Killian’s bed, swinging a spare necktie around his finger. “First, you inherit an estate. Now you’ve gotten yourself engaged to an incredibly rich lass, who just so happens to be an absolute beauty.”  


“Lucky, sure,” Killian sighed. He glanced out the window at the overgrown gardens and shook his head. “All I ever wanted was to marry Milah and settle down. Now I’ll be bound to a pretty girl who likely won’t give me the time of day once we’re married.”  


Cringing, Robin sat up slightly and put the tie aside. “Maybe Milah’s the one sending you all these blessings, Mate. You know she’s lookin’ down on you.”  


Killian nodded. He adjusted his vest and tried to push the memories of his lost love aside. It had been nearly a year since she was buried, just days before the two of them were to wed.  


With her dark curls and infectious smile, Killian had been madly in love with her from the moment they met at the pub. Milah worked for the brewery on Broad Street, and she had made the journey to his local pub to collect on past due charges for two barrels of ale.  


_“Oi,” the woman called over the bar, slapping her hand against the wooden counter. “Need them six pounds you owe us, Johnny-Boy!”  
_

_Killian had been celebrating the week-end with his friends, Robin included. The lot of them were nose-deep in their fourth – or was it fifth? rounds, singing sea shanties they had picked up from sailors come to port. Looking up from the table and through a hazy cloud of cigar smoke, Killian Jones spied the feisty brunette giving what-for to the bartender. He lifted a finger to his mates and stood, moving toward the bar.  
_

_“Seem to be a problem, Lass?” He asked the woman, leaning onto the bar for a bit of support.  
_

_“Pub business,” the bartender barked at him. “Take your seat.” The man threw a towel over his shoulder and placed his hands on his hips as he looked back to Milah. “I ain’t got your money tonight, Lass. Needed a new table after the mess we had in here three nights ago. Come back Wednesday.”  
_

_“Sorry, John, I can’t do that. Have to take the money now,” the woman insisted. She glanced at the handsome young man next to her, amused that he had tried to come to her defense. He was a few years shy of her own age, but he had a fire behind those blue eyes of his.  
_

_“Just pay the lass, would ya? She’s jus’ doin’ her job, Mate,” Killian insisted, drunkenly. He gave Milah a wink. Next thing he knew, he had been grabbed by his collar and flung toward the door. A roar emerged from his mates at a table within the bar; half of it was laughter and the other half was defensive shouting. He stumbled out the door and into the street, landing square on his arse in the middle of a puddle.  
_

_A few moments later, a much fairer hand than his own reached down to help him out of the puddle. “C’mon you,” the dark-haired siren from the pub said with a smirk, “For standing up for my honor, I might as well help get you cleaned up.”  
_

_He smiled at her and took her hand, standing in the middle of the street. “Killian,” he said after a moment. “Killian Jones.”  
_

_“Milah Smith,” she replied, shaking his hand with a wink.  
_

The two had fallen madly in love from that day forth. He recalled sneaking into the brewery one night and drinking up a stolen half gallon of ale each before they made love in the Brewmaster’s office. Another night, they had stowed away in the emptied crew’s quarters of a merchant vessel anchored at the docks, imagining they were taking a long honeymoon cruise across the Atlantic Ocean. All of their dreams came crashing down, however, when Milah came down with Scarlet Fever. She never recovered from the illness, and whatever money he had saved for a real cruise across the Atlantic had to be put into his love’s funeral.  


Coming back into reality, Killian watched a line of lower-class men and women, dressed in their finest, file slowly into the house. He knew Regina and Emma were conducting interviews for staff, now that they could afford such things on Emma’s contributions to the household. Already she had paid off every one of his predecessor’s debts and work had begun on fixing some of the more urgent issues around the estate.  


Servant work was higher on the social scale than any work Killian had ever performed. Now he was Lord over any number of them. How quickly things changed.  


\--  


Three housemaids, a real Valet, two footmen, a gardener and an undergardener, one scullery maid, two kitchen maids, and a cook later – Emma was exhausted. She had enjoyed the informal dinner that evening, picking at the various dishes Mrs. Lucas created for them to sample. It seemed she was well-worth the recommendations they had received from her previous employers. After excusing herself from the table where Regina led a vast majority of the conversation with mundane wedding plans, Emma stepped into the study to peruse the vast collection of leather-bound volumes in the room’s many bookshelves. She pulled out a novel and flipped it open, looking through the table of contents.  


Killian cleared his throat as he entered the study, as not to scare Emma by entering silently. As she looked up at him, her expression went from one of silent reverie to mild fear. Killian frowned.  


“Shall I go, Miss Swan?” He gestured back out the doorway, not wanting to make her uncomfortable.  


“Um,” she glanced around nervously, “you-you can stay. I guess. I’ll be going soon.” She closed the book in her hands and put it back on the shelf, hands starting to shake a little as she pulled out another volume to examine.  


“I just thought…a word, perhaps? I’ll maintain my distance if my presence bothers you.” He absent-mindedly tucked his hands into the pockets of his suit pants. She was dressed in a turquoise gown with delicately-beaded gold paisleys over the bodice and down one side of the skirt, which skimmed her ankles. Her hair had been plaited and pinned up behind her head, a few loose strands framing her gorgeous features.  


Emma turned to face him, hugging the red-leather bound book to her chest. She nodded carefully and stood her ground, not wanting to get any closer to him without a chaperone nearby.  


“I just wanted to take a moment to thank you, Miss Swan, for everything you’ve already done around here. I know you…you certainly did not have to come here,” Killian began, twisting his hands as he focused hard on the most appropriate language. In his spare time, he had been reading some of his deceased uncle’s letters. It helped him to get a feel for the type of language which would be expected of him.  


Emma lifted her chin slightly. She watched the way he struggled to speak to her, his eyes slightly averted. “Your Lordship,” she interrupted him, raising a hand slightly, “you needn’t put on a show for me. I can tell you’re having trouble with…eloquence.”  


The young man before her trained his gaze upon her for a moment, then seemed to smile slightly, his shoulders even relaxing. He bit down on his lower lip before speaking. “Thank you. I’m doing my best here, but it’s hardly what I’m used to.”  


Shrugging, Emma gave a slight smile. “It’s easier to speak when you can use your own words.”  


“Then,” Killian began, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “would you do me the honor of addressing me by my Christian name? Please. It’ll help me to relax a little bit around you.” He had made the request before their engagement, but she still had not acquiesced.  


“Of course, Killian,” she responded with a nod. “So long as you call me Emma.”  


“Emma,” he noted in reply, smiling. Her name left his lips as if they were a breath he had been holding for his entire life. “But, thank you. Again. I know I’ll probably keep saying it.”  


With a wave of her hand, Emma shook her head. “There’s no need. We are benefitting each other, you know.”  


His eyebrows furrowed slightly before he nodded. Was a title really worth all that much to her? Did she merely desire to be a part of the English court? He had not yet gathered the courage to ask her about her desires in settling with him, but he imagined there was plenty of time for that.  


“Aye, well,” he rocked slightly on his heels, glancing over his shoulder to watch the housemaids clearing the dinner table. “Next week, I know we’ve invited some of the nearby gentry for dinner. Would you…be so kind as to correct me, if I make a mistake? I’m bound to fumble up something or other.” He chuckled, embarrassedly rubbing the back of his neck.  


“Of course,” Emma replied with a slight laugh. She hugged the book a bit more tightly to her chest. Seeing him in such a vulnerable position made her relax just a bit more. She was reminded of how she had felt the first time she met Neal. Flirtatious and naive.  


“Thank you,” he grinned broadly. “I…I’ve managed to get you a gift. It’s not much, since I used the last of my pocket money to get it. Didn’t want to buy you something with your money, of course. I’d be pleased if you’d wear it. But if you don’t like it, that’s fine…”  


Emma blinked a couple of times, watching him fumble over his words and dig into his pocket. “A gift?”  


Stepping forward carefully, as not to scare her, Killian held out a small round box. He cleared his throat. “Thought I should be proper and all.”  


___Taking the box from him, Emma pressed the small button and the lid flipped open. The light caught the round diamond in the center of the ring, which was flanked by half-moon emeralds. She gasped and looked up at Killian. “Is this…my engagement ring?”  
_ _ _

___He nodded nervously, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “It’s a slight more than I’d have spent before moving here, but…a lady like you deserves something pretty. Although it’s nothing to you.”  
_ _ _

___Emma fought back tears as she pulled the ring from the box. She handed the box to him before removing her glove and sliding the ring onto her left hand. It was a perfect fit. “I love it. Thank you.” She offered him a genuine smile.  
_ _ _

___“Good. I’m glad,” he smiled in return, “I would like it very much if we could spend some time getting to know one another, as well. In the coming weeks. If that’s okay with you.”  
_ _ _

___With a deep breath, Emma felt a flush of heat come over her. She swallowed hard and gave a curt nod. He most likely meant in moments like this. Where they were alone. Just the two of them. Would he be just like Neal? Would he force himself upon her body without the slightest hint of her consent? Pretty gifts and pretty words led to…she knew what would be expected of her, as his wife, but…Emma’s eyes fluttered slightly as her head spun. She raised a hand to her forehead, touching it and shaking her head slowly. “Um, yes. I…I think I should lie down. Too much wine, I think.”  
_ _ _

___“Oh,” Killian took a step to the side, away from the doorway. “Don’t let me keep you then. Goodnight, Emma.”  
_ _ _

___Without much acknowledgement, Emma hurried past, climbing the stairs as quickly as her feet would take her. She did not stop until she was inside the small guest room where she was staying. Closing the door behind her, she pressed her back against it and took deep, gasping breaths as she sank to the floor in sobs. When would her heart stop its incessant pounding every time she thought about intimate moments with a man? Would it ever? She quietly wondered if she would ever recover.  
_ _ _

___\--  
_ _ _

___Early the next day, Kentledge was bustling with the introduction of new staff. Emma was below stairs, with a list in-hand. As the soon-to-be mistress of the estate, she had sole charge of the staff. A group of servants had arrived, suitcases in-hand, and were lined up before her. She gave a tentative smile to them.  
_ _ _

___“Good morning,” she addressed the team. “My name is Emma Swan. I will be mistress of this house as of June the first. I would like to take this time to introduce each one of you to all of the others. Please step forth when I call your name. Starting with the existing staff, Mr. Gold.”  
_ _ _

___As she introduced the staff to one another, Emma could not help but feel a twinge of pride for the household she would be building. Perhaps things were not to be so terrible at Kentledge as she had previously thought.  
_ _ _

___After being dismissed by the lady of the house, the staff sat down to a luncheon together. They sat in the proper order of precedence, of course, with Gold at the head of the table, and Mrs. Gale next to him. Mrs. Gale was a tall, stern-looking woman with what seemed to be a no-nonsense attitude. Her countenance seemed to intimidate the remaining female staff, over which she would have charge.  
_ _ _

___Ruby and Cora sat near a young man named David, who was to be his Lordship’s personal valet. David had light hair and warm blue eyes, and his smile was infectious. Ruby was somewhat flustered in his presence, but when she noticed the way he gazed toward one of the housemaids, she set her mind to other tasks.  
_ _ _

___The pretty little housemaid in question was Mary-Margaret, a young woman with experience at an inn down the road. She had been born and raised in Derbyshire, and she was ecstatic about starting her job at Kentledge. Her bubbly personality positively brightened the room as she chatted about how lovely the house could be, with a proper going over. The two other housemaids, Mulan and Aurora, seemed equally as charmed by her, nodding in agreement.  
_ _ _

___Mulan Fa drew stares from the other staff, obviously being of foreign origin. Her features were beautiful and distinct, as she was the child of immigrants from China. When it became clear that Miss Fa spoke impeccable English and understood local customs, it seemed that most of the staff relaxed around her.  
_ _ _

___Mrs. Lucas, the house cook, served a delicious lunch to her new co-workers, with the help of her kitchen and scullery maids.  
_ _ _

___“May I have your attention?” Mr. Gold asked once plates were cleared. The staff turned to look at the older man at the head of the table. He stood alongside Mrs. Gale, who made him seem impish in size. “It is probably well-known to all of you that there will be a wedding here in just two months. I implore you all to work as hard as you can and take on extra projects before the wedding, so we may impress our guests. If something new is needed, please present a list to myself or Mrs. Gale so that we may have the finest of everything prior to the blessed event. Your liveries are available in your rooms, which are in the estate attics. Please excuse yourselves as soon as possible to make your way up there.”  
_ _ _

___The room bustled with activity as everyone grasped their suitcases and made their way up the stairs, anxious to begin work in the estate.  
_ _ _

___\--  
_ _ _

___For the first time, a long line of automobiles was lined up at the front of Kentledge. Henry and Roland, the new footmen, were dressed in smart livery with gold vests, aiding the gentry from neighboring estates as they exited their vehicles. Robin stood off to the side, directing the flow of traffic into an area near the new garages which were under construction.  
_ _ _

___The drawing room was abuzz with a swarm of beautiful gowns and white-tie tuxedoes. The upper crust of Derbyshire and the surrounding counties were gathered, already indulging in champagne and hors d’ouerves as they awaited the arrival of their hosts for the evening.  
_ _ _

___The new kid in town, Killian Jones was more afraid than ever to be meeting his peers. He adjusted his tie once more in the mirror and straightened his jacket. David, his new valet, stepped up behind him and held out a pair of gold cufflinks. Killian nodded in agreement and offered up a nervous smile. The news he had received earlier in the day was niggling away at him.  
_ _ _

___“I think you’ll do well tonight, if I may say so, sir,” David said with a smile. The young man was just slightly taller than him, with slicked-back blond hair and bright blue eyes. He helped Killian with the cufflinks, then brushed at his jacket a few more times.  
_ _ _

___“Thank you, Nolan,” Killian replied, using the name he had been instructed to use when addressing members of the staff. When he was not trying to figure out the goings on of the rebirth of the estate, he was studying the manners which came along with being a member of the upper class.  
_ _ _

___“You’re welcome, sir,” David replied with a nod. “It’s time.” The young man handed a pocket watch to Killian before opening the bedroom door to allow his employer to leave. “Best of luck.”  
_ _ _

___Killian took the watch and offered a nod as he stepped into the hallway. He made his way down to the top of the staircase, looking down over the crowd that had gathered already. A sound at the other end of the hall made him turn.  
_ _ _

___Ms. Mills was walking toward him, her dark hair pulled up high atop her head in beautiful curls with a silver comb. She wore a deep red dress, belted at the waist, but loose around her shoulders. A long strand of black beads hung over her fine collarbones. She held a fan in her hand as she approached.  
_ _ _

___“Miss Swan is on her way,” she offered with a smile, opening the fan to flutter at herself. “Looks as if there’s quite the turnout.”  
_ _ _

___“Indeed there is,” Killian replied, smiling to the older woman. “I’ve never seen so many automobiles all at once.”  
_ _ _

___“I’m sure Locksley is enjoying himself, then,” Regina grinned. “I shall have to go see. It may put me in mind of New York.”  
_ _ _

___“Are there so many of them in New York?” Killian asked, raising an eyebrow.  
_ _ _

___Amidst the small talk, Emma approached. She stepped up beside Regina and glanced down at the crowd below. This kind of gathering was fairly normal for her, but she did dread having to make conversation with strangers.  
_ _ _

___Whatever Regina was saying went completely unmarked by Killian. Emma’s appearance caused his jaw to involuntarily drop slightly, lips parting to see the beautiful vision of a woman in front of him. Her gown was a fine silk, embellished with gold beads and seed pearls. Her hair was pulled back with a band that skimmed her forehead, swept into large curls of what must have been the latest fashion. Her jewels glittered in the candlelight of the hallway, a twinge of pink rising from her neck to her cheeks as her eyes landed upon Killian’s.  
_ _ _

___“Shall we go down?” Emma asked politely after she gave Killian just a moment or two to gawk.  
_ _ _

___“Don’t let me steal your thunder,” Regina muttered, heading down the stairs on her own. She reached the bottom of the staircase and grabbed a glass of champagne before nudging Mr. Gold to make the appropriate announcement.  
_ _ _

___Killian shook his head slightly as he continued to bask in what seemed like a glow from Emma’s beauty. “You look amazing,” he whispered to her, offering his arm.  
_ _ _

___“Thank you,” she replied with a soft smile.  
_ _ _

___“Ladies and Gentlemen, may I have the honor to present Lord Killian Jones, Marquess of Matlock, and his bride-to-be Miss Emma Swan of New York City,” Gold announced as loudly as his raspy voice would allow.  
_ _ _

___The crowd turned to admire the couple as they carefully descended, the train of Emma’s gown wrapped around her wrist. She smiled at the guests. A whisper of awe moved through the crowd at seeing such a beautifully-matched pair of young persons. There was a bit of applause as they reached the bottom of the staircase and a line formed to begin speaking with the pair. Emma took in a deep breath and squeezed slightly at Killian’s forearm.  
_ _ _

___“Here we go,” she whispered.  
_ _ _

___\--  
_ _ _

___The string quartet in the corner of the hall played a low selection of elegant classics. Emma fanned herself slowly as she listened to an older woman babble on about the state of the pig farms on her own estate, and how she wished the ‘damned laborers would just do their jobs’. Emma’s other arm draped through Killian’s gave her a sense of his growing tension and she took the opportunity to change the subject during a pause in conversation.  
_ _ _

___“I simply can’t wait to meet the people here at Kentledge. I know we’ve a fair number of cottages and farms just down the lane, but Killian and I have not had the opportunity to have them around for dinner,” she breezed.  
_ _ _

___Killian looked over at the goddess beside him as she made the sort of level-headed conversation of which he found himself currently incapable.  
_ _ _

___Emma continued, “Perhaps, darling,” she cooed to her betrothed, “we should invite them all over for the wedding. I think maybe that would be a lively party.”  
_ _ _

___The sour look on the guests faces told Emma she had hit exactly the right tone. The older woman and her disinterested husband parted company from the younger couple.  
_ _ _

___“Thank you,” Killian whispered as he leaned closer to her. “I nearly lost my temper.”  
_ _ _

___Emma squeezed his forearm gently with her gloved hand as Regina approached.  
_ _ _

___“Well,” Regina smiled cooly, a glass of champagne in-hand, “I think it’s time we had a dance from our lovely couple.”  
_ _ _

___Emma felt Killian tense again and she looked up to see he had gone pale. Regina turned to the string quartet with her orders as Emma turned to face the stunned nobleman.  
_ _ _

___“Are you alright?” She asked as the music changed and grew in volume. The floor around them cleared.  
_ _ _

___“I don’t…I can’t dance,” he murmured, looking down into Emma’s soft green eyes. “I don’t even know where to start.”  
_ _ _

___“Well,” Emma said, carefully guiding her left hand into his right and placing his left hand upon her hip. “It’s called a Waltz. And the first rule is to pick a partner who knows what she’s doing.”  
_ _ _

___He forced a smile and did his best to follow her lead, moving clumsily through the steps. Emma whispered instructions as they moved across the floor.  
_ _ _

___Killian focused on the dance to the best of his ability, but he found it difficult due to the way Emma spoke. She was gentle in her guidance, smiling at him when he got it right and laughing softly when he stepped on her toes. She squeezed his hand reassuringly.  
_ _ _

___“You really do know what you’re doing,” he whispered to her, taking in the beauty of her confidence. It was something he had not yet seen on her, and he loved it.  
_ _ _

___Emma hummed in response, “Mmm, well, I’ve been trained since my youth to be a proper member of society. Raised to be the wife of a great man.”  
_ _ _

___“I’m sorry you did not get a great man,” he murmured, cringing slightly. He knew that he was not ideal for her, but he would absolutely do his best to try.  
_ _ _

___They were each silent for a moment, gazing into one another’s eyes. Emma finally broke the silence as the music reached its end. “Don’t be sorry,” she whispered, “I think I might have.”  
_ _ _

___\--  
_ _ _

___The stifling heat of the party had given Regina a head rush. She walked along the gravel drive, out toward the waiting horde of automobiles. Several chauffeurs had gathered to the side of the garage, tipping back flasks in a cloud of cigarette smoke. A single lantern in the garage revealed Locksley, tinkering away underneath the hood of one of the house vehicles.  
_ _ _

___“Not in the mood for company?” Regina asked the man, stepping forward. There was a chill in the air, but Regina was glad for it.  
_ _ _

___Glancing up from his work, Robin smirked and shook his head. “Nah, they’ve all got interest in the local cricket team. I don’t know a thing about it.”  
_ _ _

___“That makes two of us,” Regina replied. She glanced into the inner workings of the motor in front of him. “Where did you learn how to fix these?”  
_ _ _

___Robin grabbed a towel and wiped his hands as he nodded to the engine. “I learned mechanics from working on ships. They’re all about the same, really. Moving bits need to keep moving. Stationary bits need to stay stationary.” He grinned. “And treat an engine like you would a woman.”  
_ _ _

___Regina’s eyebrow raised slowly at the uncouth statement. She cleared her throat and shuffled her feet slightly. “Well, I’m not sure I know what you mean by that, sir.”  
_ _ _

___“Keep her warm, feed her what she needs, and make sure all her parts are…running smoothly,” he winked and turned to grab a glass of ale from the table behind him, taking a sip.  
_ _ _

___Ms. Mills kept her thoughts to herself and pursed her lips. “I’ll be requiring a ride to the Dowager house tomorrow, Mr. Locksley. Please be ready at the front by eleven.”  
_ _ _

___With a tip of his flat cap, Robin grinned. “Will do, Madam.”  
_ _ _

___Turning on her toe, Regina made her way back to the house.  
_ _ _

___\--  
_ _ _

___It was nearly one o’clock in the morning when the last of the guests poured themselves into their automobiles, silly with drink. Emma had trudged slowly up the stairs, pulling her long satin gloves from her hands as she made her way to her bedroom. She opened the door and stepped inside, kicking away her shoes from her aching feet. Hearing a presence behind her, Emma assumed Ruby had made her way to her room to help her undress.  
_ _ _

___“It wasn’t all that bad tonight,” Emma spoke, folding her gloves before placing them on her vanity table.  
_ _ _

___“Were you expecting it to be?” A male voice asked, startling Emma. She turned quickly to see Killian in the doorway. Her posture froze, and she glanced around nervously.  
_ _ _

___“Oh, I…I thought you were…Ruby,” she fumbled for words, her heart pounding in her chest.  
_ _ _

___Holding up a hand in surrender, Killian shook his head. “I’m sorry, I did not mean to intrude. I just needed a moment to speak to you without an audience.”  
_ _ _

___Emma’s eyebrow raised slowly as she stood her ground, watching him in her doorway. He had loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top few buttons on his white shirt. She could see the smallest tuft of dark chest hair peeking through.  
_ _ _

___Pulling a letter from his pocket, Killian raised it slightly. “I thought I should tell you that I received a letter of conscription today. I couldn’t find the right time to tell you, until now.”  
_ _ _

___Emma frowned. Her head cocked to the side as she glanced first at the letter, then to those blue eyes of his. Had circumstances been different, Emma was quite sure she would have been able to get lost in them during a formal courtship. “I don’t understand,” she admitted, shrugging her shoulders.  
_ _ _

___“Oh,” he bit down on his lower lip and stepped a bit closer, but stopped once he watched her take a step backwards. He did not want to upset her, seeing as how they were unchaperoned at the moment, so he did his best to keep his distance. Taking a step back to where he had been, he watched her posture change slightly, relaxing just a bit. “It’s a letter stating that I’ve been selected to fight on behalf of our country. My status means I’ll be an officer in the Royal Navy. I leave for duty June the second.”  
_ _ _

___“Fight?” Emma’s eyes widened. She shook her head. “You mean, in the war?”  
_ _ _

___Killian simply nodded. He took in a deep breath. “So once we’re married, you’ll be rid of me for a while.”  
_ _ _

___Her gaze and posture visibly softened. He could see an expression of guilt crossing her features. “I do not wish to be rid of you, Your Lordship.”  
_ _ _

___“Killian, please,” he shook his head, closing his eyes.  
_ _ _

___Emma blushed slightly and nodded, giving a slight smile. “Killian, then. Please do not think I wish to be rid of you. I’m learning new things, but…I’m sure I’ll settle in. Will…will you be on the front lines? Surely not.”  
_ _ _

___“I don’t know,” he confessed, shrugging. “I’m not sure what they’ll do with me. I just know I’m to report for duty on that given date. From there, who knows.”  
_ _ _

___Her head spun as she thought about the situation as a whole. The very day after their wedding, her husband would be leaving for battle. What if he never returned? What would she do then? And, of course, they would have a wedding night together, as was expected. If she were to become pregnant that night, she could end up with a child. Emma bit down nervously upon her lip. “I do not wish you to go. Please understand that.”  
_ _ _

___He smiled and nodded, remaining in his place even though he wished to go to her. “Aye, I do. Hopefully, when I return from battle, we’ll be able to get to know one another better. We should make the best of things, despite the sudden changes in both of our lives, Miss Swan.”  
_ _ _

___“I agree,” she nodded, giving him a gentle smile. She relaxed a bit and took a step toward him. “Thank you for telling me.”  
_ _ _

___He simply nodded, bowing his head slightly to her.  
_ _ _

___“And please, again, call me Emma,” she insisted in return. Killian’s smile made her cheeks warm with a blush. “Goodnight, Killian.”  
_ _ _

___“Goodnight, Emma,” he replied, stepping back from the doorway. She stepped to the door and closed it slowly. Killian watched her every step of the way, turning only once the door was closed.  
_ _ _


	4. Chapter 4

Within the next few weeks, Kentledge became more vibrant than it had ever been. The gardens were tended, the walls, floors, and chandeliers polished to perfection, and décor took on a new life. Emma had insisted that electricity be installed, since she had grown so accustomed to using it in New York. A telephone system was also going in to ease communication between the estate and the outside world. Sitting in her room, Emma shuffled through handfuls of swatches for the nearby Dowager house, which she and Killian had decided would be occupied by Regina. Emma was determined to make sure the house was in the best shape before they revealed it to her Aunt.  


With a knock at the door, Emma looked up to see both Regina and Ruby enter the room. She smiled and tucked the swatches into a small box, putting it aside. She noticed the large boxes Ruby carried with her.   


“What’s all this?” Emma asked, raising an eyebrow. She stood from the bed.   


“They’re here!” Regina trilled with excitement. She grinned broadly. “We’ve received your gown and trousseau from Paris! And just in time. Two weeks to go. My, we cut it close. Ruby, you’ll have to work extra hard to get this to fit, if it needs any adjustments.”  


Ruby smiled and gave a wink to Emma, then pulled open the first box. She moved the box to sit on Emma’s bed. Inside was a cream-colored silk gown, trimmed in silver beads and pearls. The three of them gasped. Although Emma was not eager for her wedding day’s eminent approach, she could still appreciate a beautiful gown when she saw it. Ruby carefully pulled the dress from the box and held it out. A long netted skirt grazed the floor.   


“Put it on!” Regina urged, taking a seat across the room. With some difficulty, Emma maneuvered into the restrictive undergarments, then held it taut as Ruby buttoned each tiny button up the back. The tears in Regina’s eyes spoke volumes as Emma turned to the mirror. The gown was very nearly a perfect fit. The hem seemed a bit long for the current fashion, but she was convinced that Ruby could make it work. Moving closer to her mistress and friend, Ruby pulled Emma’s hair away from her face and carefully lifted a veil over her head, which trailed the ground below.   


“We’ll put Lily-of-the-Valley into your hair, Miss,” Ruby said with a smile. “I think it would go very well with this.”  


“Yes, of course,” Emma smiled.   


“It’s a shame there isn’t a family tiara you could wear. Gold says it was sold when the estate started its decline. Perhaps we should buy one?” Regina studied her fingernails.  


“I don’t need a tiara, even if this marriage does come with a title,” Emma eyed her aunt. “Do I look like a bride?”  


“His Lordship may not be able to speak when he sees you,” Regina replied with a wink. Emma rolled her eyes.   


“I highly doubt that. This is as much of an obligation for him as it is for me,” Emma sighed. She cleared her throat. The idea of being a bride was one thing, but it tarnished slightly when she remembered that she was not marrying a man with whom she had fallen in love. Instead, she was being sold.   


“Well, if not with this gown, then with these,” Regina said with a throaty voice, moving to the second box. She pulled out a few bits of fabric as Ruby removed the veil and tucked it carefully over a hangar to let out some of the creases. Emma focused on getting out of the gown as Regina unfurled a few items.  


Once she was out of the dress, she looked to Regina, who held up a short silk negligee, in white. There was lace along the trim, and a lace robe in Regina’s opposite hand told her the pair was meant to be worn together. Emma’s face reddened deeply. “Regina!” She stated with shock. “What is that?!”  


With a raise of her aunt’s eyebrow, Emma knew the answer. She shook her head. “No need for all of that, I’m sure,” Emma sighed.  


“Oh Emma,” Regina groaned. She put the items aside and took her niece by the hand. “A man of his Lordship’s position will most definitely be in want of an heir. It has to happen sometime. The sooner you open yourself to your marital duties, the easier things will be for you.”  


Clenching her jaw, Emma cleared her throat. “I mean…Killian – his Lordship will not be here for long.”  


“Pardon?” Regina asked. With a flick of her hand, she directed Ruby to put the items away.  


“He’s received a letter of conscription. A draft. The day after our wedding, he’s being sent to war,” Emma frowned slightly. “I hadn’t told you because…I didn’t think it mattered much, so long as I married him.”  


Taking a seat on the bed, Regina appeared to be lost in thought for a moment. Emma pulled on her day dress and took a seat next to her aunt.  


“I told him I’m not fond of the idea of him going,” she reassured her. “And we agreed that we will try to get to know each other better when he returns.” Emma gave a slight smile.   


“I would say,” Regina began slowly, still thinking, “that the lingerie will be all the more important on your wedding night, then.”  


The idea made Emma’s stomach churn. She swallowed hard. “Why is that?”  


“Well, might be best if you go ahead and conceive that heir before he goes off to war, hm? Give him something to look forward to when he returns.” Leaning forward, Regina kissed Emma’s forehead and smiled, patting her niece’s hands. “Everything will be just fine, Emma. Don’t worry about a thing.”  


She remained still as her aunt left the room, leaving Emma alone with a silent Ruby. Turning, Ruby cleared her throat and spoke. “Miss, may I say something?”  


Looking up at the servant, Emma smiled calmly. “Yes, of course, Ruby. I’ve always an open ear for you.”  


“Miss Swan, I think you dread your wedding because you think you should love your husband. Am I correct in saying so?” Ruby moved to stand closer, her hands clasped before her.  


Emma shrugged and gave a nod, remaining quiet to listen to what the girl had to say.  


“Perhaps you should look at it as an opportunity to fall in love,” Ruby added, smiling softly. “Perhaps he can be the great love of your life, if you will allow it. I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”  


The words sunk in slowly as Emma stared at the ornate carpets beneath her bed. She glanced up at the servant in front of her, who was much brighter than most would assume. She nodded and bit down on her lip. “I think you could be right,” Emma said with a smile. “Thank you, Ruby.”  


Curtseying, Ruby turned and left the room, closing the door behind her. Emma stood and moved toward her closet, rubbing the soft silk of the negligee between her fingers, lost in deep thought.  


\--  


“Ouch!” Mary-Margaret hissed as she ran over her finger with the iron. She sucked her finger into her mouth and continued on with her work, pressing the wrinkles out of the tablecloths for the evening’s dinner.   


David had just been walking past the linen closet when he heard the exclamation of pain. Turning, he peered inside to see the petite brunette working one-handed on her task. With a smirk, he stepped into the closet, knocking softly on the door frame. “You look as if you could use some help.”  


Mary-Margaret looked up and sighed. She shook her head, putting the iron aside. “Just…being clumsy, that’s all. I’ve got it, really. But thank you.” She adjusted the cloth on the board, carefully folding the pressed end as she went.   


“We, um, we haven’t really met yet. I’m David, David Nolan,” he offered a hand, but quickly realized it was to shake her injured one, and shifted to the other.  


Mary-Margaret smirked and awkwardly shook David’s hand with her uninjured left. “Mary-Margaret.”  


He took a seat near the doorway, peering out into the downstairs hall as he sat. “So how long have you been in service?”  


The young woman shrugged and continued on with her task, her finger reddened. “About four years. You?”  


“Six,” he nodded and leaned back slightly on the chair to get a better angle on the hall. The last thing he wanted was to be caught sitting down by Mr. Gold. “Were you always a house maid?”  


“You’re very curious,” she laughed, shuffling the tablecloth around again to press another side. “No, I was a scullery maid for two years, then I worked in the kitchens at Sudbury. I doubt you were always a valet?”  


“Right you are,” he grinned and leaned forward again, the legs of the chair hitting the tiled floor. Standing, he adjusted his vest and leaned against the door frame. “I was a footman at a hotel in London.”  


Looking up, Mary-Margaret blinked. She was surprised to hear he had worked in London. “What brought you to the country, then?”  


“Well,” David smirked, watching her carefully, “I heard a rumor that the girls in the country were far prettier than the ones in London. Seems I heard correctly.”  


With a bitter laugh, Mary-Margaret shook her head. She gathered up the tablecloth, holding it carefully to avoid letting any wrinkles set in. “Just mind you don’t get any of the girls in trouble here, and you should be able to keep your place.” Moving the iron back to the wood stove with a free hand, she then hurried the tablecloth toward the stairs.   


Caught somewhat off guard, David stammered for a response. He had been trying to flatter the young woman, but it seemed she had misinterpreted him. “Well, I…can…can I help you with that?” He followed after her.  


“Can manage,” she remarked off-handedly, climbing the staircase toward the dining room.  


“Mr. Nolan,” came a voice from the hall. David cringed and turned to see Mr. Gold hobbling toward him.   


“Yes, sir?”  


Gold eyed the staircase before turning his gaze back to David. “His Lordship will need his wedding clothes ordered today. Have you been in contact with the tailor?”  


Disappointed that his favorite maid had hurried off, David shook his head, “No sir, I’ll place the order immediately.” Turning, he made his way to the common area to use the telephone.  


\--  


The engine on the automobile rumbled loudly as the vehicle bumped along the dirt and gravel roads of Derbyshire. Emma sat across from her Aunt, gazing out the window at the countryside as they made their way out to the Northern end of the county, a place Killian referred to as the ‘Peak District’.   


Sitting stiffly beside her, Killian kept his hands folded in his lap. A picnic lunch had been packed for the three of them, which Killian had hoped to be the two of them. Emma had insisted on a chaperone despite the fact that they were a week from being man and wife. He quietly wondered if Regina would sleep in their bed with them upon their wedding night.  


The car came to a halt near one of the higher peaks, and Killian stepped out. He took in a deep breath of the fresh summertime air. There had not been such a nice day in Derbyshire in ages. Turning, he offered his hand to Emma to help her from the car.  


“Thank you,” Emma smiled to him as she exited. Her day dress was a soft pink. It skimmed her ankles and bared most of her shoulders. The newest fashions were a far cry from what the previous decade had brought. She wrapped an ivory shawl over her arms and tipped her wide-brimmed hat back slightly. “Oh, it’s just beautiful.”   


Locksley moved to the other side of the car and held out a gloved hand for Ms. Mills. Regina placed her hand into his and stepped from the vehicle. “Lovely day, isn’t it, Locksley?”  


“Positively gorgeous,” Robin replied, his eyes upon hers. Regina noticed his gaze and turned her head quickly in avoidance. She released his hand and stepped toward Emma.  


“Now Emma,” Regina gathered her wits as she tried to shake off the comments from the driver, “I’ve brought my sewing. I’ll be just here near the car, and you enjoy yourself. I’m within earshot, of course. But…I doubt you will need me.”  


“Thank you,” Emma replied, adjusting her kid gloves. She looked to Killian, who was admiring the view. Stepping to his side, she raised an eyebrow. “Shall we take a walk?”  


Killian smiled and pulled his hand from his pocket to offer her his arm. Turning, they took a path up the side of one of the wild hills.   


“Do they have places like this in America?” He asked after a moment, enjoying the warmth of her hand upon his arm.  


“There are lovely mountains there,” she replied, “a couple of ranges are quite famous. The Rocky Mountains and the Appalachians.”  


“’Rocky Mountains’ seems a bit redundant, doesn’t it?” Killian chuckled. He was relieved when she laughed alongside him.  


“I suppose it does,” she grinned, “but I certainly did not come up with the name. I understand that the American West is full of wilderness like this, but I’ve never been.”  


“Perhaps we shall travel back to the United States sometime,” Killian suggested with a shrug. “After I return from the war?”  


She paused. “Perhaps,” she shrugged, “I imagine a trip out West would do.”  


“Do you miss it?” He watched as soft tendrils of her golden hair danced gently in a light breeze.  


“New York? No,” she shook her head. “England has felt more like home to me in these past few weeks than New York had in months. I’m still adjusting to a few customs here, but…I’m finding it to be…exactly what I needed.” She turned to face him. Locksley, Regina, and the car were quite far from them, but she felt at ease for once.   


“I hope you will be comfortable with England as your home,” he replied, smiling at her. “With me.”  


Sliding her hand carefully down his sleeve, Emma locked her gloved hand with his bare one. “I am determined to make an effort. I cannot express how pleased I am that you have been…accepting of my cautiousness.”  


“I’m glad that you seem somewhat more comfortable with me, Love,” he stepped a bit closer to her and reached up very slowly, deliberately, to push a lock of hair from her eyes. “I think you are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I hope you’ve noticed that I’m quite enamored with you.”  


Glancing down at their feet, Emma blushed. She took in a deep breath and bit down on her lower lip. “Thank you,” was all the reply she could manage. Taking a step back, she continued on the walk, but did not break her hold on his hand.  


\--  


“What on Earth could you be sewing? I know you’ve got staff who does all your mending for you,” Locksley asked, leaning against the car. He had set up a small chair for Regina, which had been tied to the back of the vehicle.  


“It’s a pattern for a fireplace screen, if you must know,” Regina sighed. “Mr. Locksley, you are quite good at taking improper liberties with your words.”  


Robin snickered and crossed his arms over his chest. “I wasn’t trained to be a servant, y’know. Just a friend to ol’ Jonesy there.”  


“His Lordship,” Regina corrected, wrapping the thread around one of her fingers as she pulled it through the mesh material, “is how you should address him.”  


“Can’t do it,” he laughed. “We grew up together. No way I can call him that. But, should you insist, ma’am, I will be more formal with you.”  


With a sigh, Regina closed her eyes and let her stitching fall into her lap. “In the presence of company, I would prefer you speak to me as His Lordship’s aunt. Following the wedding, of course. When we are alone, I don’t care what you say, so long as it’s respectful.”  


Licking his lips, Robin watched the woman before him. “When we’re alone, eh? You intend on us spending some more time on our own?”  


Regina fought back a smirk. “I can’t say I…detest time with you,” she began working at her stitching once more. “And a woman of my age and status is allowed to keep any kind of company she wishes, in her own time.”  


“Is that so?” Robin pushed off of the vehicle and gazed around. It seemed they were alone, as Killian and Emma had wandered down one of the hills. He took a step closer to Regina and crouched beside her chair. “Any…sort of company, Madam?”  


Clearing her throat, Regina glanced to the young man at her side. He had a wicked grin stretched across his face. She blushed slightly and adjusted where she sat. “So long as it’s kept quiet.”  


With a nod, Robin stood. He tucked his hands back into his pockets and moved away once more to lean against the car. “Well, just let me know when you’re in need of a ride, Ms. Mills.”  


“Will do, Locksley,” she responded with a smirk.  


\--  


Weeks later and mere hours before the wedding ceremony was to take place, Emma and Killian strolled silently from the dining room. Awkward conversation had been held at dinner, which was much more formal than most dinners at Kentledge. Killian was dressed in white tie and tails, and Emma in a glittering gown of silver and green. The wedding guests had arrived in droves. Obscure cousins from all over the globe were staying at the newly-refurbished estate. The dining hall was alive with chatter about politics as they left, avoiding clouds of cigar smoke and the sweet smell of brandy being dispensed into snifters.  


“Could we take a walk through the rose garden?” Emma asked as they paused just outside of the dining room. “I’d like to talk, if that’s okay with you.”  


Killian was surprised that Emma would suggest a conversation without the usual chaperone. Perhaps she was learning to trust him on the eve before they were to be wed. He smiled and nodded, gesturing toward the door. Emma picked up the train of her gown as they walked, careful not to let it become dusty on the grey gravel of the front circular drive. Once they were in the garden, she let it rest on the grass, taking a seat on a bench near the house. She patted the seat next to her on the bench with her long satin gloves. Carefully, she pulled each finger free, then removed the gloves altogether. Killian watched her with curiosity, noting her beautiful, long, slender fingers as they were exposed to him. It was strange for him to see her without the gloves. She seemed keen on hiding herself from him in almost every way.  


“You’re probably a bit confused about why we’re out here,” Emma said with a soft smile. She carefully reached out and placed her hand over his. He felt her shake slightly and gripped her hand as tenderly as he could, trying to steady her without giving her cause for fear. Looking across the moonlit garden, he nodded.   


“I admit, I am,” he smiled back. The touch was most certainly welcome. Her hands were cold. He carefully rubbed at her soft skin with his thumb.   


“Tomorrow,” Emma began, licking her lips, “we will be wed, as you know. And we will be in front of…everyone from the town, as well as everyone from that…horrible dinner.”  


Killian laughed softly, nodding in agreement. “Aye, it was bad, wasn’t it? I don’t know half of those old stuffy folk from my side of the family. I wished they’d all just leave.”  


Emma grinned. It was the first time he had seen such a genuine smile on her since they had met. Her features lit up beneath the moonlight. His breath caught in his chest as he admired her incredible beauty. He gave her hand a gentle squeeze, and she squeezed in return.  


“At a point in the ceremony, we’ll be asked to seal the marriage vows with a kiss,” Emma explained, continuing her train of thought. “I’d rather like our first kiss to be ours. Not theirs.”  


It took a moment for Killian to process her words, but when he put it all together, he cocked his head to the side. “Are you asking me to kiss you, Love?”  


Emma breathed in deeply, her heart pounding in her chest. She gave a very slight nod and smiled. “If you want to, of course.”  


Another word needed not be spoken. He had wanted to kiss her from the night in the study when he told her of his conscription. Leaning forward, with very slow, deliberate movements, he placed his hand on her cheek, caressing it with his thumb. The other kept hold of her chilled hand, trying to warm it in the lowering temperatures of the summer evening. Her cheek was warm in contrast to her palm. He smiled, watching her eyes dart from his gaze down to his lips. Very carefully, he let his lips touch hers. Emma felt warmth emanate through her body. He was so tender with her; so very gentle. Although he may not have had knowledge of her prior dealings with men, he seemed to understand that she was hesitant about many things including bodily contact. Strangely enough, she felt at ease. Reaching up, she placed her free hand on his chest, feeling that his heart was pounding nearly as fast as hers. She smiled against his lips and tilted her forehead onto his to pull their lips gently apart, her eyes closed. “That was…”  


“…perfect,” Killian finished the thought, his eyes closed as well. He smiled, then gave her another gentle kiss before pulling back. The flush in her cheeks, which cascaded all the way down around her exposed décolletage, was just barely visible in the dim light of the moon. She was smiling, however, and it warmed his heart to see her so happy.  


Emma breathed deeply and bit down on her lower lip. She agreed; it had been a perfect kiss. She almost hated for the moment to end, but Killian tugged her hand carefully. “Come, Miss Swan, you’ve a very busy day tomorrow.”  


Emma gave a quiet laugh and nodded. “As do you, your Lordship.”  



	5. Chapter 5

The smattering of upper-crust Englishmen and women who attended the wedding seemed almost as unenthusiastic as the bride and groom themselves. Standing at the front of Kentledge Chapel, Killian found himself wringing his hands nervously. It was not so much marrying Emma which bothered him; it was the fact that he would be leaving her in the morning. He trusted her to run the estate in his absence, but the question was whether he would ever return. Was there a possibility that he would be abandoning his wife and, potentially, a child? The hum of the chapel’s organ pulled him from his thoughts, and Emma appeared at the back of the church. She was alone, since her father was deceased, but she was an absolute vision in ivory, silhouetted by the morning sunlight behind her.  


As Emma took her tentative steps toward the front of the church, she glanced at the mostly-empty pews. Had this been a proper New York society wedding, they would have been filled to the brim, and the wedding would have been at St. Patrick Cathedral, rather than a small church on the estate’s grounds. Her face was covered with a veil of translucent silk, draping down onto her bouquet of roses and lily-of-the-valley. As she approached her husband-to-be, Emma took in a deep breath and fought back tears. Any sense of comfort she had experienced the night before was gone. The tears were not so much of fear as she had anticipated, and in fact she could not place the emotion. Anxiety gripped her as she reached her betrothed. Her chest heaved as she struggled to maintain her composure. Tonight, she would be forced to face her fears. He had been an absolute gentleman up until now; would that sort of behavior continue into the bedroom? Or would he pin her to the bed, sweating and panting over her body as he ignored her cries of pain? He would then be leaving in the morning, and she would be abandoned once more. Whether that abandonment was welcome or despised would ultimately be decided in a few short hours.  


The pair listened solemnly to the priest, reciting their vows as required. Killian slid a simple gold band onto Emma’s thin ring finger, where it came to rest with the engagement ring he had purchased for her. He dared to glance up into her eyes at that very moment, and caught the way a tear streaked down her flushed cheek. A pang of regret filled him, and he gave her hand a tender squeeze. His chest tightened slightly at the idea of causing her pain.  


Emma glanced up to her new husband. She could see concern in his eyes, and it made her feel all the guiltier for crying on their wedding day. Perhaps, with a forced smile, she could pass the tears off as expressions of joy. She hoped he would not consider the tears as a slight against him in particular. It was not long before Killian lifted her veil, carefully tucking it over her shoulders. He gazed into her eyes, his eyebrow lifting, silently asking if it was alright to proceed. Emma gave a tiny smile and nodded, listening to distracted applause as he pressed his lips gently to hers. Something in the kiss was oddly soothing. Perhaps the touch of his fingertips to her cheek. The caress of his thumb, wiping away her tears. Her racing pulse seemed to slow, and she felt as if she could breathe once more.  


They turned and offered smiles and waves to the family. Emma noted Regina dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. She bit down on her lower lip and stepped back up the aisle, arm-in-arm with her new husband.  


Taking Emma’s hand, Killian carefully helped her up into the back seat of the new automobile they had purchased for the estate. The wedding breakfast would begin in an hour or so, and the guests could not, of course, beat the bride and groom back to their house.  


As Robin pulled them away from the chapel, Killian turned to Emma. He reached forward and touched her cheek once more, which was still damp with the remnants of tears.  


“Emma,” he said as softly as could be understood against the roar of the auto’s engine, “I want you to know that I will do everything in my power to make you happy, Love.”  


She sighed and shook her head, looking down at her hands. “Please, forgive me. I…I want to be a good wife to you.” She stared into his eyes for a moment before leaning forward to place a reassuring kiss on his lips.   


He returned the kiss, rubbing his thumb slowly against her cheek. “I’m sure you will,” He replied, his own thoughts on his early morning departure.  


\--  


Hundreds of forced smiles, awkward conversations, and painstakingly long photograph sessions followed the wedding breakfast. Emma’s feet were tired from spending so much time standing for photos, and she thought she could see exhaustion in Killian’s eyes. They spent the evening supporting one another as they danced slowly around the ballroom, the train of Emma’s dress wrapped around her wrist. She had long since managed to rid herself of her veil, the weight of it having put a pain in her neck.   


“Who knew the business of getting married was so exhausting?” Emma asked as they moved carefully across the dance floor, with Emma leading once more. Early evening was approaching, and the electric chandeliers had been turned on above them.   


Killian laughed and nodded. “I daresay we will be able to relax soon enough,” he replied, pulling her a little tighter against him as they turned. He felt a stiffening in her posture, and loosened his grip. There had to be something amiss. Her demeanor with him had been more relaxed of late, but whenever he attempted to show affection, she turned cold. Perhaps he was trying too hard. As the music came to a slow stop, he pulled slightly away and bowed to his wife, kissing the back of her hand.   


\--  


It was nearing ten o’clock at night when Emma was finally able to retire to her room. With Ruby behind her, she made her way up the winding staircase to the bedroom which belonged to the Mistress of the house. She had been moved there earlier in the day, from her previous guest quarters down the hall. The room was large and warm, with peach-colored draperies that matched the soft, luxurious bedding. A separate room held an area for dressing, as well as a lavatory and bath.   


“Can I get you anything before I go down, My Lady?” Ruby asked, using the appropriate address now that her mistress had a title.   


Emma would likely have rolled her eyes at the address, if she had not been distracted. She stood before a full-length mirror, dressed in the lingerie her aunt had purchased for this very night. The negligee was short, barely falling to mid-thigh. The thin silk hardly covered anything at all, and the lace robe which accompanied the nightgown did nothing to help. She pulled on the robe and tugged the belt tight around her waist. “No, thank you,” she muttered, closing her eyes.  


Ruby bit down on her lip as she saw the distress in Emma’s behavior. Breaking from her duties, she moved forward and placed a careful hand on her friend’s shoulder.   


“Emma,” she said softly, keeping her voice as low as possible, “he isn’t Neal. From everything I have seen, His Lordship is a kind and gentle man. I am very sure that he will not hurt you. Perhaps…talk to him. Let him know what happened. That should give him cause to treat you gently.”  


Keeping her eyes closed, Emma nodded quickly and swiped at the tears that fell from between her lashes. “Thank you, Ruby,” she whispered. A soft knock sounded in the room. Emma looked up and rubbed the tears from her cheeks, then ushered her maid from the room with a reassuring smile. She turned back to the door which connected her room to her husband’s.  


“Come in,” she said, gathering every ounce of strength she had.   


The door opened slowly, and Killian stepped into her room. He was dressed in a pair of pajamas and a blue silk smoking jacket, looking a great deal more comfortable than he had earlier in the day. He glanced around the dimly-lit room until his eyes fell upon Emma.   


The door between the two rooms closed slowly behind him as he took in the sight of her. Her long blonde hair was down, cascading in voluminous curls over her shoulders. The robe she wore was more for form than function, he supposed, as it obviously did nothing to keep her warm. He stood frozen in place as he noticed her long, smooth legs peeking out from the slit in the garment.   


Emma stared back at him, seeing just a peek of dark hair coming from the low collar of his smoking jacket, his slim-yet-muscular frame highlighted by the close-fitting pajamas. His cheeks were flushed pink as soon as he saw her, and she knew she was nearly red head-to-toe herself. She cleared her throat and took a couple of tentative steps toward him.   


“Your Lordship,” she bowed her head slightly. She knew how he would react to the formal address, but decided it was necessary, as she was not sure she could actually use his name without crying.  


“Emma,” he returned, stepping cautiously to her. He let his eyes wander over his body, since he was well aware that the pair had taken their vows. She was, after all, his wife. “You look…”  


She tugged at the belt on her robe and pulled it open, letting the lace pile at her feet. The short white chemise underneath hid absolutely nothing. He stifled a gasp as he noticed the slightly-darkened circles of her nipples pressing against the thin garment. “I know,” she whispered, her eyes closed.  


His instinct was to pull her to him and ravish her, but the way she had reacted on the dance floor gave him much more pause. He pulled his gaze away from her body and looked into her eyes. “Are you afraid of me?” He asked with sincerity.  


Her brow furrowed slightly. She had not expected him to ask such a thing. Obviously, he had noticed the way she shied away from his touch and affectionate manners. Emma, however, believed a man to have a one-track mind on his wedding night. She clenched her jaw and swallowed hard before replying. “Not…specifically…of you, my Lord,” she suddenly felt very naked indeed.   


“Of men, then,” he clarified, reaching up to brush some hair away as it fell into her eyes. He noticed the way she flinched back from the gesture and paused. “Who hurt you, Emma?”  


Tears welled up in her eyes and a lump formed in her throat. She could not hold it back any longer. “Please…don’t be angry when I tell you.” Her voice was a mere whisper.  


Killian blinked a couple of times and took her by the hand, leading her toward the bed to sit. He sat beside her, keeping her hand in his, but his body a chaste distance from her. “You are my wife. Until death do us part, Emma. We promised that today, did we not?”  


“But…when I tell you…” she shook her head quickly.   


“Just tell me, please,” he urged, watching her closely.   


Emma took in a shaky breath before she proceeded to relay the story of her past. She gripped his hand tightly as she told him of the attack at the Vanderbilt mansion, and apologized profusely for not having told him before. She simply did not want their deal, the marriage of convenience, to be broken with the truth.   


“I am…not what you think I am, and I have many reservations about tonight because of what happened,” she finally admitted toward the end of her speech. “I know you were probably expecting a virginal bride. Please know...I absolutely did not want him to...take me that way. I made a mistake in going with him to the solarium, and I tried so hard to fight him off. I admit now that I came here because of my ruin. I needed to get out of New York. So, please, be gentle with me this evening, if you can. My body has healed, but my soul has not.”  


Killian’s pulse pounded in his ears, his head swimming with anger. Here she was, this gorgeous angel before him, and now he knew why she had always been so afraid of his touch. He breathed in deeply and gazed into her eyes, lifting her chin with a touch of his fingertips. “You did absolutely nothing wrong. He was in the wrong, and if he were here, I would murder him for it. Emma, I ask nothing of you tonight,” he reassured her. “I know what is normal for a wedding night, but if you and I ever make love, it will be because you want me. Because I have won your heart.”  


Her gaze lifted to meet his. “Are you certain? What kind of a wife am I to deny my husband his marital rights?”  


“It’s not a right, as far as I’m concerned,” he replied, searching her warm green eyes. “It’s a privilege to be able to be intimate. I would never, ever force you into anything, Emma.”  


“But tomorrow,” she muttered.   


“Tomorrow doesn’t matter,” he insisted. “I may be leaving, but I will return. And I will write to you every day that I can. I will fight for my country, and then I will come home to my wife.”  


Emma was not sure how she had expected him to react, but this most certainly was not it. Swallowing hard, she nodded, thinking. “May I ask a favor of you?”  


“Anything,” he replied, watching her closely, still holding onto her hand.   


“I want to learn how to be intimate. I think, with time, I will be able to break away from these fears. So, will you sleep here tonight? In my room, with me?” She looked up into his eyes, rubbing the back of his hand with her thumb. “Please, I just want to be held by you. To learn…how to be held. Nothing more.”  


He smiled slowly and leaned forward, placing a kiss against her forehead. “Of course, your Ladyship.”  


His smoking jacket shed, Killian climbed under the covers with his bride. They laid for a moment, awkwardly side-by-side upon their backs, staring at the draped canopy above them. Gradually, Killian turned onto his side and faced her. He licked his lips.   


“May I hold you? I’ll place my hand just here,” he demonstrated by sliding his hand very carefully onto her hip, “if that’s alright. You may turn to face me, or you can turn away. Whatever makes you comfortable.”  


This time she did not hesitate, nor did she flinch. She turned onto her side and moved into his grasp. Emma rested a hand upon his chest, sliding her fingers into the soft dark curls which showed from the low collar of his slightly-unbuttoned pajama top. “Like this?” She asked.  


“Perfect,” he whispered in return, taking deep breaths. He made a particular effort to keep his hips pulled slightly back from hers. If just the slightest touch could upset her, he feared the reaction she could have if she felt his arousal against her stomach. “Are you okay with this?”  


“Yes,” she breathed, scooting a little closer. This time, it was Killian’s turn to freeze. He cleared his throat as soon as he felt the bulge in his pants press against her body.   


“I-I’m sorry,” he muttered, trying to scoot back from her once more, “you just…you’re so beautiful and…and that nightgown and…”  


Emma raised her hand to his cheek and gazed into his soft blue eyes, “It’s okay,” she said with a blush in her cheeks, “it’s fine. At least I know…when the time comes…that you’ll want me.”  


“Like you wouldn’t believe,” he replied with a chuckle, blushing. He pressed his lips to hers. “Goodnight, my beautiful wife.”  


“Please come home,” she whispered. Although she could not yet say she loved the man, she now knew that he was the kind of man she could love, and she hated the idea of losing the opportunity to be happy. “Come back to me.”  


“As you wish,” he smiled and held her close as they drifted off to sleep.  


\--  


As the morning light pierced through the heavy draperies in Emma’s room, she stirred and smiled, releasing a soft sigh. She was wrapped still in her husband’s warm embrace, her body curled up against his.   


Killian had been awake for an hour or so, just watching her sleep. She smiled often in her slumber, sometimes humming or sighing happily. He hoped her dreams would always make her happy, and more so that he would be a reason for her happiness.   


With a stretch, Emma opened her eyes. She nuzzled against Killian’s slightly-exposed chest.  


“Good morning,”she murmured.  


Killian smiled, glad her reaction was not one of fear, for once. “Good morning, Mrs. Jones,” he smirked and kissed the top of her head. “Did you sleep well?”  


“Very well, thanks to you,” she cranes her neck up slightly, “I don’t believe I’ve slept that well in ages.”  


“Good,” he rubbed her back slowly.   


The clock on the mantel chimed softly. With a deep breath, the reality of the morning’s obligation swept back into Emma’s consciousness. She swallowed hard.  


“Are you afraid?” She asked, breaking a tense silence.  


For a long moment, Killian did not respond. Finally, “Yes,” he admitted.  


“I will pray for your safety every day,” she attempted to reassure him.  


“I’m not afraid of war so much as I’m afraid of leaving you behind,” he continued. “All I want is to come home, and I haven’t even left.”  


Sitting up, Emma combed her fingers through her hair and gazed down at her husband. “Me too.” She smiled, proud that she no longer felt so uncomfortable in his presence. Even the fact that she was practically nude did not give her pause. Biting down on her lower lip, she gave consideration to sliding her hand beneath the covers and touching him. She wondered how his taut stomach would feel beneath her fingers. How his hips would buck if she let her hand slink lower, lower until she touched the hard length she had felt against her belly the night before. A warmth grew slowly within her core.  


There was a knock at the door.  


“Breakfast, your Ladyship?” Called a maid.   


Emma stammered slightly and climbed from the bed. “Um, yes. Can you also bring the tray for his Lordship?” She pulled on her lacy robe and lingered by the fire to keep warm.   


“Of course,” the maid replied and hurried down the hall to meet the request. Emma turned back to see Killian climbing from the bed, stretching his arms over his head. She could see a trail of dark hair leading from below his belly button down to where his pants were slung low on his hips. Something deep inside ached as she admired him.  


“Train leaves at noon,” he sighed, moving to look out the window over the rose garden. He glanced back at Emma and frowned. “I guess we just enjoy what little honeymoon we have now, eh? With a nice breakfast?”  


\--  


“Well, I’m off,” David declared, stuffing his hands into his pockets.  


Mrs. Lucas looked up at the tall, handsome young man and smiled. “Be safe,” she urged him, “I’ve packed a lunch for you and his Lordship. Tea in the canister, there.”  


David accepted the parcels with a grin. “Thanks, Granny,” he responded with the downstairs staff’s nickname for the older woman.  


Ruby beamed at David from her place at the servants’ table. “You’ll be missed around here,” she gave him a wink and tilted her head toward the petite housemaid who had just entered the room, rubbing her soot-covered hands on her apron.  


“Ah,” David rocked slightly on his heels, “not so sure about that,” he cleared his throat.  


“Mary-Margaret,” Ruby spoke up, “David and his Lordship are leaving.”  


David glared for a moment at Lady Jones’ maid, then turned toward Mary-Margaret, who gave him a polite smile.  


“Take care of yourself,” she fiddled with her cap as she spoke, “Avoid those Germans.”  


Chuckling nervously, David cleared his throat and gestured out into the hallway. “Could I speak to you, for a moment?”  


Blinking, she glanced toward the hallway, then stepped out into it. She turned to face David, staring up at him with curiosity.  


“I wondered, um, Mary-Margaret, if I might be so privileged as to write you, while I’m away?” He asked nervously, fiddling with a string on the package which held his lunch.  


Mary-Margaret watched him for a second or two in silence before her expression visibly changed. Her cheeks flushed a deep pink and she stammered slightly, “Oh! Oh, um, of course, David. That would be lovely.”  


A grin spread across David’s features. He nodded quickly. “As often as I can, I promise.”  


“Good,” she nodded, her hands nervously rubbing at her apron once more.   


“Well, best be going then,” he glanced up the stairs, shifting his care package under his arm. “Goodbye.”  


The tall valet climbed the stairs two at a time. Mary-Margaret waved and smiled slightly. “Bye,” she called, even though he was out of earshot. Ruby waltzed past her, humming a teasing tune.  


“Told you,” she sang, hurrying up the stairs with a basket of her Ladyship’s delicates.   


\--  


“And you have everything?” Emma asked, wringing her hands nervously. Killian was dressed in a tweed suit, handing his suitcase to Nolan to load into the back of the car.  


“I can’t take all that much, Love,” he chuckled and stepped closer to her. “There isn’t exactly high tea every day.”  


Emma looked rather sheepish and smirked, “You’re right. I just want you home safe, and soon.”  


Killian nodded. He moved close to her and wrapped his arm around her waist. Instead of flinching or stepping backward, Emma arched her back slightly and settled up against his body.  


“You’ll wait for me?” He asked in a whisper. “Won’t run off with someone else while I’m gone?”  


Emma stood on her toes and placed a slow, tender kiss against his lips. “I’ll be right here,” she whispered in return. “Our home is not complete without you.”  


David cleared his throat softly from the doorway. Their train would most definitely not wait on them.  


Killian kissed her once more before stepping back, letting his fingertips linger against her waist as long as possible. And then, in what seemed like an instant, he was gone.   


Emma watched the car drive down the lane and disappear into the hedgerows. She swallowed the lump in her throat and wiped her tears with her palm. He had left her, and she did not even know if he would ever return.  



	6. Chapter 6

_23 July, 1916_   


_My Dearest Emma,_  


_Today, we ship out, heading for France. I had hoped most of my time was to be spent aboard a ship, but it seems the Army is in need of backup at the Front. I promise, per your request, to be careful._  


_In the days since you told me about your past, I feel quite guilty for not having shared my own. I was once engaged to be married before I inherited Kentledge. I loved her with all of my heart, and I never wanted to part from her. However, God had other plans, and he took her from me. I buried her not long before Mr. Hopper came to me with news of my cousin’s passing._  


_Her name was Milah, and you would have loved her. She was fun-loving and spirited, and she would not take flak from any man. I see much of her in you, you know. You are strong and beautiful, just like her._  


_Emma, I miss you. I miss the way the light shines on your golden hair. The night you spent in my arms haunts me every night as I sleep on a cold, empty cot. The men here have been enjoying the company of the local lasses, but I am completely devoted to returning to you, my wife. I long for the day this war ends and I get to see you once more._  


_I will write again when I reach the Front. Hoping all is well and that you are safe._  


_With my devotion,_  


_Killian_  


\--  


_2 August 1916_  


_Dear Killian,_  


_Your words bring me hope. Things around Kentledge have been coming along, but I wish you were here. It’s difficult to think you are fighting each day to defend your country whilst I merely decide on the colors for draperies in the guest bedrooms. The staff is shaping up more and more daily, and I know you will be quite impressed when you return home._  


_Thank you for telling me of Milah. I am terribly sorry that your heart was broken. Life has a funny way of bringing broken hearts together, does it not? I hope I may work to be able to mend your heart._  


_My bed, too, feels cold after our night together. I look forward to many a warm night with you by my side when you come back. Please tell me more about the front. I fear if I speak too much of home, it may make you long even more for it. I do not wish to make you sad._  


_Emma_  


\--  


_18 September 1916_  


_Dear Mary-Margaret,_  


_Thank you for your reply to my last letter. I had not thought you would send anything back. The front is hard, and there’s little rest for anyone. I never thought I’d miss the lumpy mattress I had there at Kentledge, but I do._  


_I hope you’ll allow me to be frank, but I very much miss seeing you every day. When I return, could I take you out for a nice dinner at the pub? I know it’s not anything special, but I thought maybe we could talk some. I’d love to get to know you better._  


_Tell the staff I said hello, and that we’re doing okay. His Lordship misses her Ladyship terribly. He talks about her a lot. I hope they’re well-suited. I can tell he loves her, if nothing else._  


_I hope to hear from you soon._  


_David_  


\--  


The days between letters were hard. Each day, Emma found herself inquiring after the post. Mr. Gold’s sad smile became a common sight around the house. Nevertheless, she thanked the man and tried to make her days more fulfilling.  


“Emma,” Regina asked one afternoon as they embroidered cushions in the study, “I never did ask. Is there…any chance that a little someone may be on the way?”  


“Pardon?” Emma turned to face her aunt, “Who?”  


“A little one? I know his Lordship left the morning after your wedding, but I thought perhaps something may have come of your wedding night? Xavier said she thought she heard Bane saying something about you having an upset stomach in the servants’ lounge.”  


“Nothing like that happened, Regina,” Emma answered, scowling. “And I’m not sure why your maid is so concerned with my business.”  


“What do you mean nothing like that happened? The maids said he was in your room in the morning before he left. It was your wedding night, Emma,” Regina frowned. “You cannot tell me that the man was in your room all night without...something happening.”  


“He slept in my room, but I told him what happened with Neal, and he did not wish to push any further on. Out of respect for me,” Emma stood, putting her pillow aside. “When he returns, perhaps…we will get to know each other better.”  


Regina pursed her lips as she stared at her niece. “Well,” she huffed, “I only hope he does not return and decide to annul the marriage. He could run off with all of your money. An unconsummated marriage is perfectly illegitimate.”  


“You do not know him,” Emma said quietly, her gaze narrowed. “He would never do that.”  


“If I recall correctly,” Regina lifted her chin slightly. “Your qualms with the marriage had to do with not knowing him either.”  


Standing, Emma shook her head and left the study.  


\--  


The warmth of summer was draining into a breezy autumn, and the trees around the estate had begun to turn colors with the changing of the season.   


To distract herself, Emma took rides through the woods near the house. Her favorite horse had made the long journey across the Atlantic to the stables of Kentledge.   


As Emma, astride Phantom, climbed to the top of her favorite hill, she pulled hard on the reins to stop the mare’s stride. Leaning over to peer through the trees, she could see a dark-haired man in a flat cap with a brown and white dog. The man was tall with broad shoulders and a slight limp. He clapped his hands together and bent to stroke the dog when it returned to him with a stick. Emma smiled slightly, despite the obvious trespassing, and tugged Phantom’s reins again in the opposite direction to head home. If his Lordship was not at home to enjoy the woods, she saw no harm in letting someone else amuse themselves.  


Back at the house, Emma led Phantom to her stall and locked the gate. The stable boy had gone off to France to fight, having just turned eighteen. Locksley had gone as well, just after Killian and Nolan had departed. The older and younger members of the staff remained, but the estate as a whole seemed less lively than before. She could only hope that the war would come to an end and everyone would return home soon.  


\--  


_10 October 1916_  


_Dearest Emma,_  


_Thank you for the sweets from home. And your handkerchief. I’ll keep it on me at all times. The front has been wet and dismal. Now the wet has turned to snow. Our days in the trenches are long, it seems a century since I wed you and held you in my arms. I hope this letter finds you well._  


_Please do talk of home. It makes me realize there is something waiting for me, other than another day of knee-deep mud that freezes around my boots._  


_A man died beside me yesterday. I’ll spare you the details, but his death was quick and I can only hope that if I should not survive this conflict, mine should be similar. I do not wish for death by any means, but the suffering here is great._  


_The hours stretch longer each day. I feel as if we are close to a retreat. It seems almost nothing can save us from a German occupation. They are simply too strong; we have few supplies to keep us going._  


_I’ve been dreaming of a long honeymoon with you, when this war ends. Forgive me for this, but sometimes it's almost as if I can almost feel the beautiful curves of your body under my hands. I hope you will grow fond of me, at the very least. My body and soul ache for yours. I dream that we may have a child upon my return. I long to have little ones with you. Even if these are merely useless dreams, they keep me alive. They provide a warmth I cannot describe. They take me away from this frigid filth in the trenches._  


_My thoughts are with you every second of every day._  


_Killian_  


\--  


Sitting by the fireplace, Emma wiped at the corners of her eyes. A knock came at the door to the study, and Emma cleared her throat. She hoped her reddened eyes did not give her away.  


“Come in,” she called, noting it was nearly teatime. Instead of a tea cart, however, she found her Aunt entering the room.   


“My goodness, Emma,” Regina sighed, moving to her side, “Did you get another letter from his Lordship?”  


Emma frowned slightly at her tears being noticed, but she nodded. “I did. He seems…upset. His spirits are low. He told me a man died beside him yesterday. No one should have to witness that.”  


Regina cringed. “He may return to you a broken man. If he returns at all. I’ve heard stories of shell shock.”  


Emma’s eyes stared daggers at her aunt as she pulled away from the older woman’s grasp. “He will return. I know he will come back.”  


“Yet,” Regina licked her lips, “you should know that if he does not, you should remarry. Perhaps we should go to London for the season, just to…you know…meet some new people.”  


Emma stood. “I will not begin shopping for a new husband as mine lives. Every day I am painfully reminded that Killian is away and risking his life. Meet new people…if I want to meet new people, I will do so. However, I will kindly ask you to not talk about my husband’s demise until a time comes that it is certain. Is that understood?”  


The older woman was surprised. “I did not know you harbored such affection for the man you married.”  


Turning the weathered envelope over in her hands, Emma shrugged. “Our letter writing has opened…a new kind of affection. I believe I could see happiness with him in the future, when he returns home.”  


“Then I wish you happy,” Regina nodded, offering up a smile of apology. “I’m sorry. I was merely trying to plan for the worst.”  


“We will plan for the worst when and if it comes,” Emma sighed, standing. “I’m going to my room.”  


\--  


“Have you had any more letters from David?” Ruby asked in the laundry. She shook out a bedsheet and began folding it atop a table.  


Mary-Margaret shook her head, “No, I haven’t,” she licked her lips. As Ms. Fa left the room, she cleared her throat. “In his last, he asked me on a date.”  


Ruby gasped and dropped the sheet, clapping her hands with a soft squeal of delight. Mary-Margaret cringed and tried to shush the other girl.  


“Stop,” Mary-Margaret hissed, laughing. Her cheeks were a bright red. “I told him in my reply that I’d love to go. He’s...sweet. And handsome. I just hope his intentions are right.”  


“I trust David,” Ruby replied, picking up her work again, “he’s a good lad, that one. I’ve only been wrong about one man, and that was the one who hurt her Ladyship before we moved here. Oh, he was the worst. Sweet as could be, and then he left her alone and bleeding in someone else’s house. I just consider it lucky that she never found herself with child.”  


“Do you think her Ladyship would have a child with his Lordship? You said she’s told her aunt that nothing happened on their wedding night,” Mary-Margaret said quietly. The two girls were friends enough to share a bit of gossip, but it would never leave their confidence. “You said she’s afraid of...you know.”  


With a shrug, Ruby sighed, “I think...when she realizes how much he adores her and how he would do anything for her, she’ll come ‘round. And...I mean look at him.”  


Mary-Margaret giggled. “I heard Locksley talking about how he used to get on with the woman he was going to marry before her Ladyship,” she smirked. “Sounds like she enjoyed herself well enough.”  


Both girls laughed discreetly as Mary-Margaret dunked a set of napkins into the basin.   


Ruby licked her lips slowly. “Want to know something?” Her eyebrow raise conspiratorially.  


“Of course,” Mary-Margaret grinned.   


“Locksley...and Ms. Mills...before he left for the war? Let’s just say it’s not all quiet nights at the Dowager House,” Ruby giggled madly, joined soon by her companion.  


\--  


Mid-December and hardly a letter came to the estate. Some of Emma’s old friends from America had written belated congratulations to her upon marrying and ‘securing an estate’, but she had chosen not to reply to those particularly condescending notes. She had replied quickly to Killian’s latest in October, but since then, she had not heard from her husband. His last words from the front made her absolutely wrecked with anxiety.   


“Emma,” Regina asked one day, flipping through various post items which had come from places other than the war office. Emma had little interest in these things if they were not letters from Killian. “Did you see this invitation? It seems Lady Humbert is having a Christmas party. I think you should go!”  


“By myself?” Emma asked idly as she embroidered a screen. She sighed and shook her head. “I’ll go to those things once Killian has returned.”  


“Oh, Emma,” Regina sighed, shaking her head. She moved to sit beside her niece. “You cannot live the rest of the year pouting like this. Everyone’s husbands are off to war. Go and enjoy yourself while you can.”  


Putting her needlework aside, Emma took the invitation from her aunt and looked it over. “Perhaps I can make an appearance. I hardly have anything to wear, though. I’ve completely given up on new gowns.”  


“Not to worry,” Regina winked at her, “I’m sure I can get a dressmaker here with plenty of time.”  


Emma rolled her eyes and stood, moving to rifle through the rest of the items on the desk. “Are you sure nothing’s come from the war office? I’d have thought Killian would write back by now.”  


“Nothing,” Regina sighed, placing her hands in her lap. “Perhaps he is on the way home. Wanted to surprise you?”  


“The conflict is ramping up, not slowing down. And the only reason he would make it home would be if he was injured. I most certainly do not want that,” Emma frowned. She moved toward the fire, putting her hands toward it to warm her icy fingers. “What color do you think, for the Christmas party? I do not want to be too vibrant, what with the war going on and all. And I cannot go with black, or else everyone will assume the worst has happened to Killian.”  


“A warm plum color, perhaps? Velvet, I think. I’ve seen some of the most gorgeous velvet gowns illustrated in the papers as of late,” Regina grinned. “Velvet trimmed in gold seems very festive, don’t you agree?”  


“Perhaps,” Emma shrugged. She wished Killian would be home to accompany her. She rarely thought of little else these days, but his return home. She knew that when he came back, all she really wanted was to spend time with him, get to know him on a face-to-face basis, and perhaps give him a son. The last bit made her cheeks flush with embarrassment at her own thoughts. She knew, however, that her heart longed for the same things as he.  


\--  


Early mornings at Kentledge were chilly until the fires were lit. Emma pulled her bed linens tighter around herself and shivered slightly as morning light began to filter through the curtains. She heard her bedroom door open with a soft creak and the maid hurried inside, stocking the fireplace and doing her best to light it without waking the inhabitant.  


Unable to sleep any longer, Emma sat up and shuffled in her bed to lean against the headboard.   


“Oh, I…I’m so sorry, Your Ladyship,” the petite brunette maid gasped, hurrying to finish lighting the fire.   


“No, no, you’re just fine,” Emma insisted with a wave. She sighed softly and glanced to her nightstand, where a photograph from her wedding had been framed. She turned her wedding band slowly upon her finger. “Do…do you know Lord Matlock’s valet, Nolan?”  


Mary-Margaret paused. She stood slowly and turned to face Emma with a slight nod. “Yes ma’am, I do.”  


“Have you heard from him lately?” Emma remained wrapped in a cocoon of beige duvet.   


Taking a deep breath, the pretty little maid shook her head. “I have not,” she replied, looking down at her dirty hands. “He had written a couple of letters to us, but…they stopped. Has his Lordship written as of late?”  


Emma shook her head and chewed idly on her lip. “No,” she sighed, “no, he has not. Thank you.”  


Curtseying, Mary-Margaret grabbed her pail and hurried from the room, closing the door behind her, careful to clean off the doorknob with her apron as she left.  


\--  


“Lady Emma Jones, Marchioness of Matlock,” a footman announced as Emma entered the foyer of the Humbert’s large home not far from Kentledge. “And Ms. Regina Mills, of New York City.”  


Emma shrugged away her fur coat and handed it to the footman. The group of society’s finest turned to welcome the pair of women with false smiles and whispers. Emma clenched her jaw tightly as Regina reached down to grasp her hand.   


“They only know you from what they’ve heard of you,” Regina whispered to her niece, “and trust me, I would know if anything from New York had made its way across the pond.”  


Emma nodded at the reassurance, but she still felt naked before everyone in the room. Another footman came by with a tray of champagne. The taste had bothered her since the beginning of the year, so she passed on the sparkling beverage and moved toward the approaching hostess.  


“Lady Jones, what a pleasure to see you,” the comely woman spoke. Lady Humbert was of medium height, with long blonde hair pulled back behind her head. She held a glass of champagne in her hand and gestured toward the crowd. “Many of my guests are simply dying to meet the newest Marchioness.”  


“Thank you,” Emma responded as politely as possible. She allowed herself to be whisked into the crowd, which was made of mostly women in heirloom tiaras and men too old to fight on the front lines. The chatter was idle and completely useless, of course, as she knew to be normal in any kind of society. Mrs. DeVille, drenched in a gaudy show of diamonds and furs, discussed her summer in the tropics with the Rothschilds, and Lady West cackled madly as she told the story of exiling a disobedient servant to an Australian labor camp. Merely an hour into the soiree, and Emma was wondering what it was that brought her there in the first place.  


“Lady Jones,” Lady Humbert called, waving a hand in the air. She hurried over with a familiar-looking young man at her side. “Lady Jones, you simply must meet Mr. Booth. He is a good friend of my husband’s from Cambridge.”  


Emma’s reaction to Mr. Booth was less than discreet. The man from the woods. She frowned, cocking her head to the side as she held out her gloved hand to him. “Mr. Booth, I’d say you are quite different from most of the party-goers this evening. What brings you here tonight?”  


The man grinned, showing a bright smile which was illuminated by pale blue eyes. “You mean why am I here whilst every other man of my age is fighting, including your husband?” He took her hand and bent to kiss the back of it. Emma’s spine tingled slightly at the feel of his warm lips on her long satin gloves, but she pushed the reaction away.   


“Well, I,” Emma stammered, “yes, precisely.”  


“I attempted to enlist for England, but I have an old sport injury which kept me from being allowed to serve,” Mr. Booth replied cooly. “I am in awe of what your husband is doing for this country.”  


“Thank you,” Emma replied with a polite smile, “I am, too. And this isn’t even my home country.”  


“Same with me,” Mr. Booth grinned. “We’re both transplants, it seems.”  


Emma’s posture stiffened. She took in a deep breath. “Where did you live? I came from New York City.”  


“Boston,” he nodded. “Fairly close, but not quite. I came over after I left my career. Many moons ago.”  


Relieved, Emma laughed lightly. “Well, I doubt it’s quite that many. So tell me, Mr. Booth, what is it that you do? Besides wander the woods near my estate?” Her eyebrow arched slowly as she smirked.  


“Please, call me August, Lady Jones,” he smiled brightly after a brief look of confusion, “And I’m sorry if I trespassed on your property at any time. I am currently living here at Lord Humbert’s estate and managing it in his absence. I came here in early October and had not yet mastered the property boundaries. To answer your other question, although I have no property of my own, I do look to invest. I do a bit of writing here and there, but honestly, I was born into money and I’m pretty useless.”  


“Useless!” Emma laughed loudly. “I doubt that! If anyone is useless, it’s me. I’m not even allowed to spend my time doing much. I will say, though, that I’ve been able to take a greater role since Killian has gone to the front.”  


“Times are changing, are they not? I daresay we will see a greater role for women in society as the war progresses,” Mr. Booth raised his glass of champagne to her before sipping from it.  


“Yes, I suppose we will,” Emma agreed, offering a false smile.  


\--  


“Did you have a lovely time, Madam?” Cora asked, helping Regina out of her gown.   


“Always nice to meet some new acquaintances, but with all the men gone it’s frightfully dull,” Regina sighed and stepped out of the black gown, tugging her earrings off as well. “Emma made one new friend in a Mr. Booth, who is running Lord Humbert’s estate.”  


“Mr. Booth? I’ve heard of him, Ma’am,” Cora smirked and brushed the gown slightly before placing it on a rack to be taken below stairs. “He’s a handsome young man. Wealthy. I’ve heard he’s an athlete from the States.”  


Regina acknowledged the description with a nod and removed her necklace, shimmying out of her corset and into a silk robe.  


“The kind of man Lady Jones may want to consider, should Lord Matlock not return,” Cora hummed as she collected the soiled clothes. “Might be good to encourage further encounters. Invite him to luncheon sometime, perhaps?”  


“Perhaps,” Regina sighed, pulling pins from her hair. “Bring strawberry jam with breakfast, Xavier.”  


Bowing her head low, Cora nodded and left the room. She hurried below stairs to make contact with the maids at the Humbert estate.  



	7. Chapter 7

Kentledge Hall, April 1917   


A New Year had dawned and yet Emma was without correspondence from her husband. She began a series of letters to the War Office in January, with no response as the temperatures continued to drop into February. The rains had begun in March, and Emma spent many a stale afternoon watching raindrops streaking down the windows of the great house. In April, the first buds of spring began to appear amongst the barren rose bushes.  


“Your Ladyship?” Gold asked one morning as Emma sat in the drawing room.   


Looking up from her embroidery, Emma raised an eyebrow. “Yes?”  


“You’ve a visitor. I’ve directed him to the library,” he said quietly, folding his hands in front of him. “For privacy.”  


Her brow furrowing, Emma put her work aside and stood, brushing the wrinkles from her ankle-length mauve day dress. “Thank you, Gold,” she made her way around the corner toward the library, where she saw the back of a man, similar in build to her husband, in black dress uniform.   


“…Killian?” Emma asked cautiously, her heart rising nearly into her throat.  


The man turned when he heard the voice, with a melancholy expression. Emma’s hopes were dashed as she saw a stranger before her.   


“Sorry, I thought…” she cleared her throat and forced a smile. “Welcome to Kentledge. How may I help you, sir?”  


The young man bowed his head to her. “Lady Jones, thank you for the warm welcome. My name is Sergeant Arthur Pendragon of the War Office. We received your inquiries. I’ve come with some news. Please, would you have a seat?”  


Emma swallowed hard, her gaze firmly planted upon Arthur. “I…if you want me to sit, it must not be good news.” She did as was requested, taking a seat upon a small settee near the fireplace. She gestured for the young man to sit as well.   


Without responding to the gesture, the young man took a deep breath. “Lord Jones has gone missing in action, your Ladyship.”  


“Missing?” Emma blinked slowly. “He…he is not dead, though, surely?”  


“We honestly have no idea,” Arthur shook his head and watched her carefully. “His battalion disappeared near Arras, France. I believe another member of your household has gone missing alongside him, a Mr. David Nolan.”  


Staring at the pattern on the oriental carpet beneath the sofa, Emma nodded slowly. “Yes, his valet.”  


“I will return, should we have any further information on your husband and Mr. Nolan, Lady Jones. For now, the Navy offers its condolences on your husband’s status,” Arthur bowed his head slightly to her before turning to leave the room.   


Emma sat in silence, her head spinning. It was not until a knock at the door that she finally looked up from the carpets.  


“Lady Jones?” Mr. Gold asked, stepping in. The chandelier above clicked to life, illuminating the room, as the daylight had grown dim with an impending afternoon shower. His greying brows were knit together with concern. “I apologize for the interruption, but…there’s a Mr. Booth here to see you?”  


Emma shook her head. “I don’t think I’m –“  


“Just a couple of minutes,” Mr. Booth stepped into the room, offering up a slight smile. “I just wanted to extend a spring invitation.” He lifted a bouquet of exotic-looking flowers.  


Glancing from Mr. Booth to Mr. Gold, Emma took in a deep breath and forced a pleasant expression. “Thank you, Gold,” she replied, standing from her seat. “I cannot say I’m in the best of moods to receive company, Mr. Booth. But thank you for the flowers.”  


August stepped forward and handed the bouquet to her with a grin. “I just thought after a long winter, you may need something to brighten your day. It feels like ages since we last saw one another at Lady Humbert’s party.” He tucked his now-empty hands into his pockets and rocked slightly on his heels. “And I wanted to extend an invitation to dinner. If you and your aunt are available?”  


Emma’s mind was still reeling from the War Office’s news. She stammered slightly and nodded. “Of course. Sure. Thank you. We’d be delighted.”  


“Tomorrow night, then? Lady Humbert will be pleased to see you, as well,” he smiled.   


“I’m sure the feeling is mutual,” she glanced around, then moved to the wall and pressed a button to ring for the butler. “I’d offer tea, but I think it’d be best if I went to lie down.”  


“Are you alright?” He offered a hand to her, “Allow me to help.”  


Emma took his hand and sat slowly once more. “Just a little dizzy, that’s all.”  


Gold appeared in the doorway. He watched August guiding Emma into a seat. August looked up to the butler.  


“Ah, sir, could you please fetch a small Brandy for Lady Jones?” He took a seat next to her. “And a vase for her flowers, if you don’t mind.”  


“Really, it’s not necessary,” Emma insisted. She tried to stand again, but Booth took her hand and tugged her back down to the settee.  


“No, no,” Mr. Booth frowned, “I barged in here. The least I can do is be of assistance.”  


Silently, Emma sighed and nodded. She handed the flowers back to him and leaned back slightly. Mr. Booth picked up a nearby newspaper and began fanning her with it. “Are you…are you of a delicate condition, Lady Jones? Shall I call a doctor?”  


Emma shook her head. At this point, she almost wished she was pregnant. That way she might have a little piece of her husband, who was somewhere in France. Only God knew, it seemed. “No, I am not,” she replied, closing her eyes. “I’ve just had some bad news today from the War Office.”  


Booth’s eyes softened. He put the newspaper down in his lap and took in a deep breath. “I’m terribly sorry, Lady Jones. I hate to hear that.”  


“He’s not dead,” she insisted, opening her eyes again. “Merely missing in action. I…I cannot help but fear the worst, though.”  


“Of course,” August sighed. “I hope, for your sake, that he is okay.”  


Emma gave a smile of thanks and watched him for a moment. Mr. Booth was tall and handsome, with dark hair and light eyes like Killian’s. Despite his somewhat rude entrance, she could hardly blame him for not knowing about the War Office’s earlier visit. He could have had no idea.   


“Thank you,” Emma glanced up as Gold re-entered the room. He handed her a snifter of Brandy and collected the flowers from Mr. Booth. “I believe I shall take this upstairs. I will relay your invitation to my Aunt in the Dowager House.”  


“We look forward to your recovery,” Booth nodded and turned, leaving the room. With a heavy sigh, Emma stood and cradled her Brandy in one hand as she made her way to the staircase to lie down.  


\--  


Emma and Regina ducked out of the back of the car after it came to a stop at Lord Humbert’s estate. Although the Lord of the house was off fighting in Bullecourt, the Lady of the house and Mr. Booth were eager for company.  


The front hall of the house was very grand indeed, with large pillars and a vast open space for entertaining. She had spent one warm evening in the room near Christmas, but the bustling atmosphere that night had not allowed her to take in the general splendor of the home. Mr. Booth approached, offering his hand to Emma.  


“Lady Jones,” he smiled and took her hand, kissing the back of it. Turning, he did the same with Regina, who nodded and smiled.   


“It’s a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Booth,” Regina replied.   


The trio entered the dining room and took their seats. An array of alcoholic drinks were served, in which Emma was happy to indulge. She had read about the newest fad of mixing liquors, and had yet to try such a thing at home.   


“You really should get to some of the clubs in London,” Booth grinned behind what he called a ‘martini glass’, “I think you would have a blast with this new jazz music.”  


Emma smiled politely and nodded. “Perhaps Killian and I will get to London when he returns. There’s bound to be lots of celebration after the war is over.”  


“Ms. Mills,” Lady Humbert asked between bites of fish, “Now that your niece is married, perhaps you should give it some thought, hmm?”  


Regina nearly choked on her salad. She took a sip from her own drink and smiled politely. “I hardly think, at my age, I’m one to be married.”  


“Any reason you did not marry when you were younger?” August asked, signaling to the butler for another drink, “A beautiful woman such as yourself, I can’t imagine you did not have offers.”  


Smirking, Regina shook her head. “That gin is going to your head, Mr. Booth. I was engaged, but my Daniel died. Since then I haven’t bothered to chase after the idea of marriage.”  


Emma glanced between Mr. Booth and Regina. She licked her lips and smirked. What a smart match the two would make, if she could convince Regina to give it a try. With all of the sulking Emma had been doing around Kentledge, perhaps it was now time for a small project. A matchmaking project.  


The evening was winding down as Emma strolled from the dining room, having lured Mr. Booth out into the parlor with talk of his days as an athlete in the States.   


“I have to admit, I did not follow much baseball when I was in New York,” she laughed softly, “but I imagine I would have been a fan of the Yankees.”  


“Yankees!” August scoffed and shook his head, laughing, “I played for the Boston Red Sox. Surely, with me on the team, you might have come to a game in Boston.”   


“Perhaps,” she smirked and moved to sit on a nearby chair. She draped her arms over the armrests and leaned back. “Would you not rather have had my Aunt there to cheer you on?”  


“Regina?” Booth blinked and shook his head, “I hardly know her, to be perfectly honest.” He placed his glass atop the fireplace mantel.   


“You should get to know her,” Emma cooed, sitting forward just a little, “she really is a lovely woman. Took care of me after my parents died aboard the Titanic.”  


August wrinkled his nose and shoved his hands into his pockets. He stepped toward Emma. “Emma,” he began, using her Christian name for the first time, “the only reason I would want to spend time getting to know your Aunt Regina is if it meant being closer to you.”  


Emma blinked a few times. She sat up again slowly, her brow furrowing. “I beg your pardon?”  


“Come on,” he insisted, looking around the empty room. Regina and Lady Humbert’s laughter could be heard from the dining room. “You must have noticed.”  


“You do realize I am a newlywed with a husband at the Front, yes?” Emma’s gaze narrowed slightly.  


August nodded slowly. “Newly-wed to a man you hardly know,” he pointed out, “perhaps, Emma, you and I might enter into...our own sort of relationship. Until your husband comes home. Or, if we’re careful, beyond even then.”  


Emma clenched her jaw tightly and stood. She felt it difficult to breathe. The room was suddenly hot. She took a quick glance at the doorway, considering making a mad dash.  


“It’s nineteen-seventeen, Emma. You should know that among our kind of society, no one is ever totally faithful to their spouses. A little fun between the sheets would do us both some good. And, of course, if Lord Matlock doesn’t make it home, well...then we can consider taking things public,” Booth stepped up to her and leaned in slightly, reaching forth to slide his hand onto her waist. “We would make an excellent match, Emma.”  


With a loud crack, Emma’s open palm made contact with Booth’s face. He hissed in pain but did not retaliate.  


“How dare you,” she whispered sharply. She stepped past him and hurried to the dining room, absolutely infuriated with Mr. Booth’s disgusting behavior. She stepped into the dining room, tears welling up in her eyes.  


“Regina, I think we should be taking our leave. Thank you, Lady Humbert, for your kind invitation tonight,” Emma said firmly. She picked up her clutch from the table. “I think you should probably be warned about the kind of man you’re letting run this estate. He just made a pass at me.”  


Before the move to England, Emma never would have dared to say an unkind word about anyone. Given her past, she knew the world carried a boys-will-be-boys attitude. Now, however, now she knew what men could be like. What Killian was like. She deserved to be treated so much better.  


“I’m..I’m terribly sorry, I had no idea,” Lady Humbert stood as Regina gathered her things.  


The car came screeching around to the front door as the butler hurried behind Emma, brandishing her fur. She slid into the coat and climbed into the car as quickly as she could, sitting down with a loud huff.  


“Well,” Regina said quietly after a moment, the car bumping along the lane, “that was unexpected.”  


“We have to get away from here,” Emma hissed, “I feel suffocated in this society, without him.”  


“Lady Humbert and I were discussing London,” Regina suggested, watching her niece closely, “Perhaps that would help? We can find a place to stay in Grosvenor Square, perhaps? Or Belgravia?”  


Emma nodded quickly, “London will do.”  


\--  


“Well, Ms. Mills, how was your evening?” Cora asked, draping a fur over her arm and moving to place it in the cedar closet.  


“Dreadful, I’m sorry to say,” Regina muttered, pulling her gloves from her hands. She tossed them onto the back of a chair and kicked off her shoes.  


“How so?” As Cora returned from the cedar closet, she picked up the gloves and shoes and made her way to Regina to unfasten the back of her gown.  


With a heavy sigh, Regina shook her head, “That Mr. Booth, I guess, made a pass at Emma. The nerve.”  


Cora remained silent for a long moment, licking her lips as he unbuttoned the back of the gown and pulled it down Regina’s frame. “And she was unaccepting of this?”  


Regina frowned as she looked in the mirror and pinched her side, making a note to cut back on the wine a bit. “Of course she did, she’s a married woman.”  


Shaking her head, Cora moved away from Regina and hung the gown on a hanger. “If I may speak plainly, Miss Mills, I think you should prepare the young woman for when her husband does not return from the war. It would be the best thing, really. Imagine what her Ladyship could do with money like hers and Mr. Booth’s combined,” Cora turned to face a stunned-looking Regina.  


“Did you just suggest that it would be ‘best’ if his Lordship does not return from the war?”  


Cora smiled and nodded, “It’s not as if her Ladyship harbors any particular affection for the man. She should have taken Mr. Booth up on his offer.”  


Regina’s gaze narrowed, “Do you think this is some kind of game? Emma is tortured daily by the thoughts of what her husband is enduring out on the battlefields of France. Are you seriously suggesting she enter into an affair with this man?”  


“Mr. Booth and his valet are very discreet indeed, Madame,” Cora stepped forward, placing her hands upon her hips, “I believe we can pull this off if I can get Bane to play by the rules.”  


“Enough!” Regina pointed at the door, “Had I ever wanted the input of a servant on my niece’s romantic dealings, I most certainly would have asked for it! You have gone way too far, Xavier. I want you out, and you will NOT be leaving with a reference.”  


Rolling her eyes, Cora shook her head. “You seem to take some servants’ opinions into account more than others, Ms. Mills. Or should I ignore the fact that you have secret rendez-vous with the chauffeur?”  


Picking up a vase from a nearby table, Regina launched it at Cora, barely missing her head. “I said out!”  


\--  


A week in London did manage to somewhat lift Emma’s spirits, but she still longed to hear from Killian. She became more optimistic when she saw the great deal of men milling about the streets in their military dress. There were also many veterans with injuries languishing outside of hospitals, toward which Emma took it upon herself to donate a tidy sum of money. On her own home front, the War Office had gone silent once more. It was nearly May, and no word had come on either Killian or Nolan.   


Locksley returned in the spring with an injured shoulder, which he kept in a sling, but it did not impair his driving abilities. He took a moment upon his return to thank Emma for allowing him to keep his job.  


Emma smiled. “Mr. Locksley, I could not dream of letting you go. You’re the most qualified man for the position in all of Derbyshire, and you are my husband’s best friend.”  


Locksley’s eyes dimmed slightly at the mention of Killian. “I heard he has…gone missing, My Lady. Please know I pray every day for his and Nolan’s safe return.”  


Nodding somberly, Emma moved forward and pulled Robin into a hug. She was careful of his shoulder as she embraced him. “He will come back to us, Robin, of that I am certain.”  


Regina stood near the entrance to the library, her hands folded in front of her. She watched the pair share the affectionate moment, then stepped out of Emma’s way as she left to attend to Estate business.  


Robin turned to see the beautiful brunette behind him. He gave a short nod and smiled slowly. “Did you miss me, Ms. Mills?”  


Regina’s eyebrow crooked. “Miss a servant?”  


With a click of his tongue, Robin moved closer to her and leaned in ever-so-slightly. “Is that all I am to you?”  


Pursing her lips, Regina slowly shook her head. “I may need a ride to the Dowager house this afternoon. Looks like rain. Would you be able to assist me?”  


“Indeed I shall, Madam,” he replied. Turning his head, he glanced quickly out the door into the empty corridor, then returned to Regina and wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her against him. “I’ve not lost my affection for you.”  


Her breath catching in her chest, Regina unsuccessfully attempted to hold back a grin. “Show me.”  


Leaning forward, he captured her ruby lips with his, allowing himself a sigh of contentment at once again being able to taste her. Regina returned the kiss, sliding a hand into his hair. She arched her back slightly, pressing her body to his. Their illicit affair had begun prior to his deployment, and the war had obviously done nothing to stifle their feelings for one another. With a deep breath, Regina pulled herself from him and brushed at creases on her day dress.   


“Four o’clock, Locksley. I expect you here, on the dot,” she reminded him with a firm tone. The playful smile on her lips gave him leave to nod and wink before she left the room.  


June 1917  


Although the downstairs was a flurry of activity near five o’clock in the morning, Emma had not yet stirred above stairs.   


Mary-Margaret was gathering her things to begin stoking the fires in the drawing room and Lady Jones’s room when a bell sounded for the front door. Raising an eyebrow, she looked around at the kitchens, where Mrs. Lucas was busy putting together a small breakfast for her Ladyship.   


“Who would be calling at the front at this hour?” Mary-Margaret wondered aloud. Mrs. Lucas looked up at her and blinked a couple of times, then shrugged and went back to her duties with portioning up jam for her Ladyship’s toast.  


Giving a loud yawn, Mr. Gold trudged his way up the staircase as the bell continued to ring below stairs, muttering about the milkman’s inability to remember which door was which. He shuffled through the entryway and pulled open the front door to see a man in uniform.  


“Pardon the hour,” the man breathed heavily.   


Gold stared blankly at the man, remembering him to be Sergeant Pendragon from the War Office. The young man turned and moved to the army-green van behind him and helped another soldier as they shuffled a third man into a wheeled chair.   


“I’m sorry, but can you…” Gold trailed off. The fog lifted behind his features as he realized the second man to be Nolan, Lord Jones’s valet. The injured man being moved was Killian, Lord Matlock, covered in bandages. “Oh my God.”  



	8. Chapter 8

Ruby sprinted down the hallway toward Emma’s room, her chest heaving from having conquered two flights of stairs the moment she heard of the master’s return. She knocked quickly on the door, entering only when she heard the rustle of blankets within.  


“Ruby?” Emma asked, rubbing at her eyes as she struggled to wake herself from a deep slumber in the chilled bedroom.  


“He’s home. Emma, he’s here. It’s Killian,” Ruby panted, gesturing out the door. “Let’s get you dressed.”  


“Killian!?” Emma threw her duvet to the side and grabbed her thin silk dressing gown, throwing it over her shoulders. “No time for that!” She ran from the room, tying the sash.  


“Lady Jones!” Ruby called after her, hurrying with a more modest, warmer robe and slippers.   


The barefoot Marchioness hurried down a hallway covered in lush oriental carpets. She stumbled only slightly near the top of the stairs, but steadied herself on the newel post. She ran down the stairs to find the small contingent of soldiers and servants in the entryway.   


“Oh Killian,” Emma breathed, hurrying to the chair and falling to her knees before it. She reached up, touching his cheek. His face was cool and clammy to the touch, his gaze lackluster. She brushed some of his dark hair back from his forehead, careful of a bandage near his temple. “Killian, you’re home.”  


Sergeant Pendragon nodded slightly. “Your Ladyship,” he cleared his throat, “Captain Jones has suffered a minor head injury and a few insignificant shrapnel wounds which we believe will heal quickly. The worst of his injuries is his left hand, which was damaged beyond repair and therefore amputated.”  


Emma blinked, then looked to where his left arm was heavily bandaged and tied up in a sling. She reached to touch it, but paused, then looked back to her husband. “Killian, it’s me, it’s Emma,” she whispered, taking his right hand into hers. She kissed the back of it. He appeared groggy and somewhat confused, blinking slowly.  


Ruby stood at the bottom of the stairs, clutching the dressing gown in her hands, tears welling up in her eyes. A number of staff had gathered in the hall, watching the exchange between the Lady and her returned Lord.   


“Mrs. Gale, Mr. Gold,” Emma stood after a moment, still getting no response from her husband, “Please make a place for him to recuperate in the drawing room. Call the local physician and get him here immediately.”  


\--  


In an hour’s time, a full recovery room had been set up on the first floor. Emma had dressed and was helping Nolan move Killian into the bed they had made for him.   


“Nolan,” Emma asked, sitting on the side of the bed once Killian was cautiously placed. “What happened out there?” It was only then that she noted the healing scrapes up and down the side of David’s face.  


David bowed his head slightly. “We were on the front in Arras, your Ladyship, and we lost radio contact,” he began with a sigh, “For the better part of a week, we were trapped in the basement of an abandoned building, and Captain Jones, I mean Lord Matlock, did everything he could to keep me and the other men from harm. One day, a large explosion caused our hideout to collapse. He dug me out of the rubble. Saved my life. As we tried to run to safety, he tripped and was caught in another explosion. We were captured when I went back for him.” The young man drew in a shaky breath, “His hand might have been saved if it weren’t for the Germans. They refused to treat his injury. He began asking me to make sure you were safe. He thought he was a goner. When we finally made it back to England, he insisted on coming home, rather than to a hospital.”  


Emma glanced back at Killian, who was sleeping fitfully. He moaned and turned his head side-to-side. She took his hand in hers and held it tightly, rubbing the back of it. Tears slipped down her cheeks. “I’m here,” she whispered to him, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “You’re safe.”  


There was a knock at the door as Doctor Whale entered the room. He moved to Killian’s side, shedding his coat. “I see the battlefield doctors have done what they can, but let’s try to make him a bit more comfortable.”  


“Please,” Emma looked up at the man. “Can we do anything for his pain?”  


Rolling up his sleeves, the doctor nodded and opened his bag, digging through for a syringe. “I can, but he may be unconscious for a few more hours yet after I administer this medication.”  


As much as she wanted to be able to speak to her husband, Emma nodded. “Just having him home is enough.”  


\--  


Downstairs at Kentledge was filled with whispers and hurried activity as David descended the stairs. His cap under his arm, he glanced around and nodded to a few of his coworkers, who offered firm handshakes and warm embraces.  


“You made it,” said a quiet voice behind him as he paused near the kitchens. Turning, David saw the raven-haired maid he had dreamt of nearly every night on the front lines. With a smirk, he nodded.  


“I did,” he replied cooly. “Bit better off than his Lordship, unfortunately.”  


Mary-Margaret took in a deep breath and hugged a folded stack of bedlinens to her chest. “I’m glad you’re back.” She gave a slight smile.  


“Me too,” he nodded and smiled brightly. The return expression and pink color on Mary-Margaret’s face implied she was a bit more than glad.   


\--  


It was dark outside before Killian stirred again. Emma had not left his bedside since his return. She read in a near-whisper of a voice as she sat in the candlelight beside his bed.  


“...for whatsoever from one place doth fall, is with the tide unto another brought; for there is nothing lost, that may be found, if sought…”  


A heavy sigh fell from his lips as he struggled slightly against the covers of the bed, muttering in nonsensical tones.  


She placed her book down on the small table beside the bed and picked up a cool wash cloth, wringing out the excess water before dabbing it against his forehead.  


“Emma,” he whispered as his eyes fluttered slightly. Emma beamed down at him, moving to squeeze his hand gently.  


“Yes?”  


He swallowed hard and fought against the sling which still remained on his left arm. He cringed a bit and took in a deep breath. “Love her. Tell her I love her.”  


A hard lump rose from within Emma’s chest into her throat, escaping as a silent sob as she covered her mouth. She closed her eyes tightly as a tear fell down her cheek. When he moaned again, she opened her eyes and brushed his hair back from his forehead.   


Killian’s blue eyes fluttered again, then slowly opened. He blinked a few times, simply staring at the intricate ceiling above. He then looked down to his remaining hand. Seeing the hand within his, he followed it up to see his wife, teary-eyed and smiling.  


“Emma,” he sobbed out after a moment, a tear streaming down his face. “Have I died?”  


Laughing softly, she shook her head. “No, you’re home. They brought you home to me. You and Nolan. Locksley is home, too.”  


“I love you,” he breathed to her, giving her hand a weak squeeze. “I know that now. I love you.”  


“Shhh,” Emma calmed him, placing her free hand on his chest. “Don’t stress yourself. You have a lot of healing to do.” She wanted to reply with her own sentiments, but fear held her back. She wondered how much of his admiration was actually due to his pain. When he was healed, if he felt the same, she would tell him.  


“My hand, it’s gone,” he whispered sadly. “I’m hideous.”  


Shaking her head, Emma carefully trailed her fingers over what was left of his arm. “It’s okay. I’ll find you the best doctor for this kind of injury.”  


“I’m no longer a whole man, Emma,” he whispered to her. “How could you possibly live with me?” His eyes were full of pain and sadness as he spoke. His neck tightened with the strain of swallowing.   


“You’re the bravest man I have ever met,” she replied softly, leaning down to kiss his forehead. “I’m proud to be your wife.”  


Killian closed his eyes and gripped her hand more tightly. “I’ve missed you so much.”  


“And I you,” she gave a warm smile and remained close throughout the night.  


\--  


It was late as Nolan shrugged back out of his livery and pulled on a jacket to head into town for a pint. He hung up his uniform and moved toward the kitchen exit, but paused. He turned back toward the ironing room, the general direction from where he could hear sniffling.  


Mary-Margaret sat upon a chair, her face in her hands. She rubbed at her cheeks and sniffled into a handkerchief.  


“Mary-Margaret?” David asked, peeking into the room. “Are you alright?”  


Looking up with wide eyes, she stammered slightly and hurried to stand. “I’m sorry, I thought I was alone,” she murmured and moved to get back to her work.  


“No,” he insisted, moving toward her, “sit, you’re unwell. What’s wrong?”  


Laughing through her tears, she shook it away, “Don’t look at me. I’m probably all splotchy.”  


David reached out and touched her cheek with a sympathetic smile. “You’re beautiful, as always. Tell me what’s bothering you.”  


Glancing up at him with red, watery eyes, she choked back a sob. “I’m just...I’m so happy you’re okay. I thought you were gone.”  


The young man stood, completely awestruck. He stepped closer after a moment, looking down into her eyes. “You were crying because...you’re happy I’m back?”  


She nodded quickly, rubbing at her cheek once more to banish another tear that fell. “I thought something terrible had happened to you. You stopped writing and...”  


He grinned slowly and shook his head. “No,” he whispered, “no, I’m here. I’m okay. I didn’t...I had no idea you cared.”  


“Yes,” she laughed, shaking her head, “yes, I care.”  


Leaning down, David captured her lips quickly with his own. He slid his arms around her back and pulled her tightly to him. Mary-Margaret squeaked slightly in surprise, but melted against his strong embrace. She slid her hands onto his shoulders, then up his neck and into his hair. She returned the kiss with a passion she never knew she had. His mere touch seemed to ignite her all over.  


After a long moment, David pulled back and looked down into her soft green eyes. “How could I not come back? With you here, waiting for me?”  


Mary-Margaret bit down softly on her lip and giggled, her cheeks already red with blush. “About that dinner you promised me, Nolan…”  


“C’mon,” he grinned and winked, pulling her along with him.  


\--  


Over the next couple of days, Emma was able to hire a full-time nurse to assist in Killian’s convalescence. She was able to be at his bedside during most hours, reading him books and helping to change his bandages, but the running of the estate was also quite demanding of her time. The nurse, a young woman by the name of Ariel, was a pretty young thing with bright eyes and a chipper demeanor.   


As Emma exited her bedroom, she ran almost completely into Ariel, both women stumbling backward and mumbling apologies. Ariel giggled as she stooped to pick up the pajamas she had dropped.  


“I’m so sorry,” she laughed, shaking her head, “I’ve got too many things on my mind, really.”  


“No, it’s not a problem,” Emma picked up the letter she had dropped as well, folding up the pajama pants near her and handing them back to the girl. “Does he need help dressing? I can assist.”  


“I suppose after I give his Lordship his bath, we could use your assistance in getting him dressed again,” Ariel smiled to her, taking the pants from Emma.  


Emma paused and pursed her lips, thinking. “Bath? You’re…going to give his Lordship a bath?”  


The young ginger-haired nurse nodded slowly. “Yes, Mr. Gold had the boys bring in a tub for him. We’ve just filled it with kettles and buckets. It’s cooling down, now.”  


She had never considered herself a jealous person, but Emma’s thoughts swirled over this girl giving her husband a bath. She cleared her throat. “You know; I think his Lordship may be more comfortable with his wife bathing him. Would you not enjoy a few minutes of time off? I can certainly manage.” She held out her hands for the pajamas.  


Ariel blushed. “Oh, of course. I mean, I wouldn’t dream of…trying to invade anyone’s privacy. I probably should have asked you before I…”  


“It’s no problem. Just please make sure we are undisturbed, for the sake of his Lordship’s modesty,” she took the garments from the girl and moved to the stairs, walking down toward Killian’s makeshift recovery room.  


Propped against the headboard in his room, Killian was frustratedly reaching for the glass of water to his left. He shifted his hips slightly to allow for his right arm to reach across his body. There was a soft knock at the door and he sighed, letting his head fall back against the bed.  


“Come in,” he muttered, annoyed with himself.  


Emma peeked around the door and smiled before stepping inside. She carried a bundle of garments in her arms.   


“Oh, Emma,” he found himself smiling, instantly forgetting his frustrations. “Good morning. I expected Ariel.”  


“Well, I ran into her in the hallway,” Emma said, shuffling the garments around to be able to close the door behind her and twist the lock, “and she said she was going to give you a bath.”  


Killian turned pink, glancing down slightly. “I told her I’d be able to wash myself.”  


“I offered to do it instead,” Emma said coolly, placing the pajamas aside.   


Eyes wide, he looked up at her, blinking. “You did?”  


“Mmhmm,” she nodded, moving toward the basin of hot water Ariel had already prepared. She dipped her fingertips into it to gauge the temperature. “I felt it a bit less scandalous for you to receive a bath from your wife than a pretty little nurse like her.”  


He stammered for a moment, searching for the right words. “I certainly…wouldn’t want you to think…anything inappropriate would…”  


Raising a hand to silence him, Emma took a seat on the side of his bed and reached forth to unbutton his pajama shirt. “Shh. Just relax.”  


Swallowing hard, he watched her as she reached in to undress him. He could feel his pulse beginning to race at the feel of her fingers grazing his skin. She pushed his shirt down off of his shoulders, careful to maneuver the fabric around his sling. She pulled the shirt away and reached for the waistband of his pants.  


Killian froze as he watched her remove the pants, lifting his hips to help her to take them fully off of his legs. He was left in a pair of boxer shorts only, which were doing very little to hide evidence of the fact that he found the entire idea of the bathing experience to be rather erotic. He blushed and cleared his throat. “Sorry, it’s just…”  


“Don’t be,” she replied, grasping the waistband of his boxers. “Do you want me to leave them on?” She looked up at him, a curled tendril of hair falling over one eye.  


His chest was heaving ever-so-slightly as he struggled to maintain composure. He knew he could be causing her angst simply by being unable to control his body’s natural reaction to her and her touch. “I…”  


“It’s okay with me, if it's okay with you,” she glanced up at him. Killian simply nodded and lifted his hips once more from the bed to aid her in removing his shorts. She lifted the waistband away from his arousal casually. It was the first time she had ever actually seen it, and she found herself swallowing hard at the sight of him.   


She carefully took him by the left arm and unwrapped his sling. She left the bandages intact as she helped him off of the bed and led him to the tub. Holding him steady, she helped him to sink into the water. Grabbing a cloth from the nearby table, she dipped it into the tub.  


Killian groaned softly as he sank into the hot water, allowing it to ease his joints and soothe his aches.  


Emma wrung the excess water from the white cloth and reached forward, touching it to his neck. She rubbed slowly at his skin. “Is that too hot?”   


Killian closed his eyes, clenching his jaw tightly before he shook his head and managed to squeak out a quiet, “No.”  


“Good,” she replied, rubbing it along the sides of his neck and over his collarbones. She was careful to merely dab at a small shrapnel scar near his shoulder. The healing had begun, but a scar would likely remain. She began humming a soft tune, one her mother had always sung to her when she was young. She turned and dipped the cloth back into the basin once more to warm it.  


“Emma,” Killian whispered, eyes still closed, “I can’t tell you…how much it means to me that you would work so tirelessly to bring me back to health.”  


“Is that not what a wife should do for her husband?” She asked, dragging the cloth over his chest. She admired the way the dark curls flattened underneath her touch, then sprung back to life as they began to dry. He was far more muscular than she would have thought. His chest and stomach were clearly defined, and his arms seemed to be much bulkier than before he had left for the war.  


“I hardly feel like your husband,” he answered honestly. “You know as well as I do that we entered this arrangement as business partners.”  


Pausing, Emma dipped the cloth into the basin once more. She looked up into his eyes. “That does not mean we have to remain as such. Or have you forgotten any progress we did make on our wedding night? I think we can pick up right where we left off.”  


He searched her gaze, trying to read her. She seemed much more calm than before he left. Perhaps it was true what they said; absence makes the heart grow fonder. Taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat. “If that…is what you desire, of course.”  


She took a moment to place the cloth aside, then stood back and began unbuttoning her dress. Killian’s eyes widened slightly, but he remained silent. She stripped down to a thin white muslin teddy. Grasping the edge of the tub, Emma climbed in and straddled his feet, then sunk down to her knees in front of him.   


Turning slightly, she grasped the cloth and dipped it back into the basin. She looked back at him and moved in a little closer. Licking her lips, she looked into his eyes. “I do not see our marriage as an arrangement any longer,” she whispered, “and I know now what kind of man you are. You are the very best kind of man. You are a hero, and you are a gentleman.”  


“I’m not…” he cringed slightly and shook his head, but his self-loathing was stopped by Emma’s lips upon his. She kissed him slowly, her hands finding his chest. When she pulled back, she smiled slightly.  


“Nothing you say will convince me otherwise, so stop it,” she teased him with a smirk. “Every moment you were gone, I agonized about losing the most amazing man I’ve ever met. Your patience, your restraint, and your kind heart are what make you exactly what I’ve always wanted, Killian Jones.”  


He stared back into her eyes and reached up with his hand to caress her cheek. His heart was racing. “It’s all for you.”  


Tears welled up as she smiled, leaning into his touch. “Thank you for coming home.”  


“Thank you for being my home,” he replied and kissed her again.  


As her lips parted from his, Emma bit down carefully on her lower lip and leaned back once more. Her underthings were soaked through from her movement in the tub, leaving very little to Killian’s imagination. He breathed in deeply, letting out a soft groan. Her nipples were pink and taut against the wet fabric, straining as the damp garment cooled in the room’s lower temperature. Taking the cloth in her hand, she looked down at him and began washing slowly in the nest of dark hair which surrounded his obvious erection.  


Killian leaned his head back and closed his eyes, arms draped over the sides of the tub, breathing steadily as his wife cleaned his body, feeling the warm cloth slide over his skin.   


Emma licked her lips as she gazed at the fullness of his cock beneath the water. It stood, large and thick, against his belly, the tip rising just above the water’s surface. With a shiver down her spine, she brought the cloth to it and rubbed slowly along his length. She felt him throb slightly beneath her touch and glanced up to gage his response. “Emma,” Killian whispered, his breathing heavy once more. “Perhaps this should wait, Love, until I’m able to…reciprocate?”  


As she lifted the cloth from his skin, she placed it aside, then carefully wrapped her bare hand around his hardened shaft. His skin was surprisingly soft and quite silky beneath her palm. Gripping him firmly, she ran her thumb over the tip of his length. “This is something I want to do for you. Enjoy yourself.”  


He nearly whimpered with delight at the feeling of her soft skin against his. Opening his eyes, he watched her from beneath heavy lids. She began stroking him slowly, deliberately, from top to bottom, her eyes focused upon her work. “Oh my God,” he whispered, knowing the excitement of the moment would not allow him to last long.  


“Is this right?” She whispered, glancing up at him. She obviously had no experience, but had read a few things about how to please a man while her husband had been away at war. She kept those particular books, obtained via mail order, hidden in a cedar chest in her room.  


He nodded quickly, swallowing hard again. “Yes,” he said a little more loudly than he intended, his affirmation followed by a low moan. “Bloody amazing…”  


“Good,” she smirked and stroked him more quickly, letting her free hand wander over his thighs. She slid her fingers down the inside of his thigh and maneuvered them below his sack, cupping him in her palm as she moved to slightly straddle his knees.  


“Fuck,” he muttered, watching her move over him. He was becoming so tightly wound. It had been ages since a woman had touched him, and now this beautiful woman, his wife, was lavishing him with attention. Emma, who had been afraid to let him touch her un-gloved hand until the night of their rehearsal dinner, was now stroking him into oblivion.  


Emma bit down on her lip as she squeezed his length in long, rapid strokes. She leaned forward and shifted to let the thin straps of her slip slide down her shoulders, exposing her breasts to him. “Touch me?” She asked in a whisper, her eyes focused upon him. Killian reached toward her with his remaining hand and slid his fingers down over her breast, then cupped its weight in his palm. Emma released a gentle moan of pleasure, her eyes fluttering closed. Just seeing her in that manner was like a dream come true. His finger and thumb pinched ever-so gently at her nipple.   


“Killian,” Emma cried softly, tightening her grip on his cock. He could hold back no longer. He whimpered as he came, spilling his hot seed up onto his belly.  


Emma hummed softly at him as he came, delighted at the intimate interaction which had ignited more of her passion for him. The pulsing warmth between her thighs was ever-so-much hotter than the water in the tub. She smiled and reached again for the cloth, cleaning the rest of him with care.  


“What made you…decide to do that?” He asked breathlessly, watching her. “I thought…I didn’t think you’d…”  


“I believe before you left, you said we would make love because I wanted to,” she reminded him, moving to gather his clean clothes. “Well, you’re in no state to make love. So I improvised.”  


Killian’s eyes were wide as he watched her. “I…have no complaints. And I’m suddenly all the more anxious to get back to health.”  


With a soft giggle, she climbed from the tub. Killian drank in the sight of her, from her flushed cheeks down to the slightly-darkened nest of hair between her thighs that he could make out in the translucent state of her undergarments. “Now, I think you should rest. I’ll let Ariel know you’re all clean.” She smirked.  


“Thank you, Love,” he replied with a wink.  



	9. Chapter 9

July 1917   


The high-backed wheelchair fought valiantly against the grassy gardens around Kentledge. Emma was sure she would wear herself out pushing Killian around, who spent most of his time protesting the idea altogether.  


“Really, this is silly,” he muttered, glancing around the gardens. “I can walk now, you know.”  


“The doctor said you could use some fresh air, but this is too far to walk,” Emma insisted, putting her hip into the back of the chair to get it over a lump in the yard, “so here we are. Getting fresh air.”  


“You know I’d roll myself along if I could do it without going in bloody circles…” his voice trailed off into silence as he glanced down at his missing appendage. Emma brought the chair to a halt and moved around to the front. She knelt down before him and took his wrist in between her hands.   


“Killian,” she said softly, “please. Stop beating yourself up over this. This is absolutely not your fault. Things happen, and…this will not stop us from having a happy life together. I promise you.”  


Looking up at Emma, he gave a crooked smile and nodded. “I’ll stop sulking. It’ll be a new adventure, I suppose. Learning how to do things one-handedly.”  


Emma smirked up at him. “I’m sure you’re quite capable, even with just the one.”  


Clearing his throat, Killian nodded toward a hedgerow, a blush in his cheeks. “Will you allow me a stroll just along there, Nurse Emma?”  


She glanced over her shoulder before nodding. “Sure. Just hold tight to me,” she offered her hands to help stabilize him. He had taken small walks around the house, but his balance had not completely returned following the head injury.  


Taking her hand, Killian stood and wobbled slightly as he reached out with his left arm. Emma grasped his wrist and watched him closely as she waited for a sign that he had steadied. He smiled and nodded before she wrapped her arm in his and led him toward the hedgerow.  


“So what shall be next for us, Lady Jones?” He asked after a long moment of silence, punctuated only by the crunch of the lawn beneath their feet.  


“After you’re healed?” She asked, glancing up at him, “I don’t know. Perhaps we should go on a Honeymoon. Seeing as how we never did take one. You discussed the American West before you left.”  


“I did, didn’t I?” He smiled down at her. “That we could do. Cruise across the Atlantic and enjoy some alone time? If…if that’s okay with you.”  


“We’re alone now, aren’t we?” She smiled over at him. “I hope you’ve noticed I'm more comfortable with you. I thought it should be obvious.”  


He blushed, remembering the bathing encounter a week or so back, which had ignited their fires for one another. The act had, to Killian’s delight, since been repeated. “Aye, I’m aware of your…more open nature toward me,” he smirked. “And I anticipate the return of my stamina every day.”  


Emma paused and turned to look up at him. “When you feel well enough, we’ll move everything back upstairs. Including you,” She stood on her tiptoes and planted a slow, sweet kiss against his lips.  


Killian snaked his arm around her back and pulled her body up against his. He parted his lips, kissing her more deeply than he had before, providing her with a taste of his passion for her.   


Emma breathed in, inhaling his scent as she kissed him in return. She ran her fingers up into his hair, arching her back to press her breasts to his chest. She felt a warmth emanate through her torso, spreading down between her thighs. She desperately wanted to feel more of his touch against her bare skin, but she knew they should wait until he was fully healed.  


Killian pulled back from the kiss, his own body warm with need. He leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed. “I love you,” he muttered softly. She had yet to return the sentiment, and of course he wanted it to be on her own terms. He expected nothing. Emma smiled and brushed her fingers softly against his stubbled cheek. “I love you too, Killian.”  


He opened his eyes to look at her, a smile spreading across his features. “Honestly?”  


Opening her eyes as well to reveal them welling with tears, Emma nodded. “Yes. I do. I love you. With all of my heart.”  


With a gasp, Emma felt herself lifted from her feet. Killian turned in a circle before placing her back down, laughing.   


“You are going to hurt yourself!” She laughed along with him, hugging him tightly. “Don’t you dare postpone your healing!”  


“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he grinned, kissing her again, “Mmm I’ve all the motivation in the world to get better. But…for now I should probably lie down…”  


With a laugh, she helped him back to his chair and began the slow process of wheeling him back to the house.  


\--  


“Shh,” Regina giggled and closed the door to her bedroom at the Dowager House. She grabbed Robin by his lapel and pulled him close to her, pressing her lips to his. “My maid will hear.”  


Robin returned the kiss, sliding his arms around her back and tugging her slightly toward the bed, “That old bat won’t hear a thing. She’s half-deaf.”  


“You haven’t met my new maid, Miss French,” she muttered against his lips, tugging his tie away and making quick work of the buttons on his shirt, “She hears just about everything, it seems.”  


“And what if she did hear us, hmm?” Robin asked as he fiddled with the fasteners on her dress, “Would it be so awful?”  


Regina rolled her eyes, “Of course it would. No one can know about this, remember?”  


Robin sighed, “Are you ashamed of me, Regina?” His hands paused in their work and settled upon her hips.  


Pausing, Regina frowned. She pursed her lips and reached up to push his shirt from his shoulders. “No, I’m not. It’s just...not right.”  


“What’s not right?”  


She sighed and pulled back slightly from his grasp. “Me...doing this...with someone who works in the household. You know it’s not supposed to be.”  


“What about you marrying someone like me? Is that supposed to be?” His eyes searched hers as they stood an awkward distance apart in the room.   


“I’m sorry?” Regina asked, her eyes wide.  


Robin stepped forward, not losing his gaze at her dark eyes. “Marry me, Regina.”  


“You’re out of your mind,” she muttered, stepping back to button what he had undone on her dress.  


“I mean it,” he reached out to grab her wrist. He did not hold tightly, but he held it. “I love you. I want to be with you...always. I don’t want to sneak around like this any longer. I want to tell Killian and Emma and...I want to marry you.”  


Regina tugged her hand from his grasp, shaking her head furiously. “No, Robin. No.” Turning, she left the room, letting the door slam behind her.  


\--  


“Are you supposed to be up and roaming around?” Robin asked, leaning into the engine compartment of one of the estate’s vehicles.   


Killian smirked and walked toward his friend, leaning his cane against the car before he extended his remaining hand. “Glad to see you’re back, Old Man,” Killian teased him.  


“Ah, well,” Robin took Killian’s hand in his, then pulled him into an embrace, patting his back. “Sorry I came back in better shape than you. But look on the bright side - they could’ve blown your dick off and then we’d all be in real trouble.”  


The two men laughed and Killian shook his head, “Right, all that pressure to produce an heir.”  


“And a spare, so get busy,” Robin noted, leaning down again to work at the engine block. He reached for his glass of scotch, lifting it to Killian, “Would sir care for a drink?”  


Frowning, Killian shook his head. “Bit early for that, isn’t it?”  


Robin shrugged and sighed. “Woman troubles.”  


“...I had no idea you had any woman at all,” Killian blinked, his eyebrows raised. “What’s the trouble?”  


“Trouble is, not all of us are Lords,” Robin said bitterly, finishing off his glass. He turned and moved to pour a refill from the cabinet behind him. “I asked her to marry me. She basically told me to fuck off.”  


“Smart woman,” Killian smirked and leaned slightly against the car. He looked down into the engine compartment. “Do I know her?”  


“That’s irrelevant, mate,” Robin returned and gazed back into the engine, “Point is I thought she loved me. And I guess...she doesn’t.”  


“You sure? She could just not be ready to be married.”  


Robin knew that was not the case. Regina was in her mid-thirties. She was most definitely of age to be married, and he knew she lamented the idea of remaining a spinster. “She’s of age, just...maybe she doesn’t feel the way I do. I never bothered to ask her that.”  


“Then do it,” Killian shrugged, “if there’s anything I learned during the war, it is to seize the day.”  


\--  


“So lovely to see you up and walking around, your Lordship,” Mr. Gold bowed his head slightly to his employer as Killian stepped back into the house, cane at his side for balance’s sake.  


“Aye, Thank you, Gold,” he grinned broadly. “I’m nearly good as new. I believe I’ll be moving back upstairs tonight. Can you see to it that my room is ready?”  


“Of course, sir,” Gold nodded, “I’m certain Lady Jones will be relieved to sleep upstairs once more, as well.” The old man turned, heading to spread the news of the master’s return to a normal life.   


“Look at you,” Emma hummed with a smile. “Up and running around.” She entered the sitting room with a stack of papers in her arm.   


“Ah yes,” he nodded, “I’d say I’ve healed tolerably well. I did have an excellent nurse, though.” He shifted his weight slightly as he watched his wife stroll past. What Gold mentioned tugged at him a bit. As far as he had known, Emma had gone to bed every evening. He followed slowly.  


“Ariel did an excellent job,” she replied off-handedly. “I think I’ll recommend her a raise.”  


“I meant you,” Killian smirked, moving up behind his wife. He placed a gentle kiss on her exposed neckline. “Gold mentioned something earlier...have you been sleeping at my bedside every night?”  


Emma bit down on her lip and breathed deeply before having a seat. “I could hardly stay in my bed, knowing you were at home. I never wanted to disturb you, so I just slept in the chair there beside you. I hope you don’t mind.” She patted the spot beside her on the settee. “Come, I’ve got a surprise for you.”  


For a silent moment, he stared at her and shook his head. “You’re too good to me, Emma. You have to be affecting your own health, sleeping in a chair.”  


“It’s nothing, I promise you,” Emma assured him, patting the sofa once more. She was suffering from a bit of a crook in her neck, but she would undoubtedly survive it. “Do you want your surprise or not?”   


He hobbled over and sat slowly beside her, sliding his hand onto her knee. “A surprise? I have absolutely everything I could ever want.”  


“Somehow, I doubt that,” she smirked and licked her lips before opening a catalogue. “I sent away for this information. We just only need take a few measurements and send it back. Then…a man will deliver a new hand for you.” She glanced up at him to gauge his reaction.  


Looking down at the catalogue, Killian frowned. He leaned forward a bit and looked at the drawings of wooden hands. Some were covered in black gloves, and some appeared to have articulated fingers. Some had hooks inside the palms to facilitate the grasping of items.  


“…would you want something like this? Or…did I assume too much?” Emma’s cheeks flushed pink as she waited for a reaction. There was nervous fluttering to her voice as she explained herself, “I know you don’t necessarily need to have one, but I thought it might be useful in case you wanted to pick something up and your right hand was otherwise engaged...”  


Reaching up, Killian cupped Emma’s cheek and leaned in to kiss her. He smiled against her lips. “Shh. It’s wonderful, Love. Thank you.”  


She relaxed against his touch and smiled. “Good. I didn’t want you to think you had to have one. I just thought it convenient. You know I love you no matter what.”  


“I’ll never tire of hearing that,” he chuckled. “I asked Gold to assist me in moving upstairs tonight.”  


“Do you feel up to climbing the stairs?” Emma’s eyebrow raised as she studied his stormy blue eyes. “I wouldn’t want you to rush into it.”  


“I’ve been practicing, and I’m quite sure I can handle it,” he smiled and rubbed her cheek with his thumb.   


“Don’t wear yourself out,” she warned, rubbing his chest through his shirt. She gave a little wink, “I need you strong.”   


\--  


Regina was rather quiet all throughout dinner that evening, but Emma found herself nearly incapable of concentrating on her aunt’s mood. She was slightly giddy, and her appetite was nonexistent given her anticipation. It was over a year since she had married her husband, and yet tonight felt like their very first night together. In some aspects, of course, it was.  


Killian seemed determined to keep his mind otherwise occupied. He stared across the table at his wife’s aunt, taking a bite of his beef Wellington. “You alright, Regina?”  


The older woman nodded slightly, giving a small smile, “Perfectly fine, thank you.”  


“How are you finding the Dowager House? Is it to your liking? I know I missed when Emma presented it to you, but I was hoping you’d find it pleasing,” he picked up his glass of wine after putting down his fork. Glancing over at Emma, he watched her chase peas around her plate with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  


“It’s very nice,” Regina nodded, keeping to a short answer. She cleared her throat and dabbed at her mouth with her napkin. “In fact, I should probably be going there now.”  


Emma looked up, “I’ll call Locksley,” she reached for the bell next to her wine glass.  


“No!” Regina said, a bit louder than she had intended. Both Emma and Killian blinked at her, somewhat shocked.  


“I...I’m sorry, I mean, no, thank you. I’d rather walk tonight,” she smiled and moved over to kiss the top of Emma’s head. “Goodnight, Darling.”  


“Goodnight,” Emma frowned as her aunt left the dining room. She glanced at Killian. “Something’s wrong.”  


Killian nodded in agreement, but there was an air of suspicion to the look in his eye, “Aye. Something with Locksley? That was a rather big refusal.”  


Emma shook her head. She grasped the small bell and rang for Gold.   


“Dessert, madame?” Gold asked, ready to signal down to the kitchens for a pudding.  


“I think we’re all set,” Emma smiled and put her napkin atop the table. “His Lordship and I will retire, now. We’ll ring you if we need anything else.”  


“I’ll send up Bane and Nolan,” Gold nodded and exited the room.   


Emma stood and slid her arm into Killian’s walking toward the staircase. “Do you need help on the stairs?” She squeezed his forearm.  


“I’ve got it, Love,” he smiled. “Just a bit slower, is all.”  


At the foot of the staircase, Emma paused and turned to face him. She took in a deep breath. “Let’s consider this...the wedding night we should have had.”  


“I’ve no qualms with the one we did have,” Killian smirked, reaching up with his hand to graze her cheek with his fingertips.  


She laughed softly, “No, I mean...let’s try again. Tonight.”  


Leaning forward, Killian gave her a slow, tender kiss. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.  


“I love you too,” she beamed, then pulled back slightly, releasing his arm. “I’ll be waiting for you.” Turning, she ascended the stairs and headed for her bedroom.  


\--  


“You look stunning, your Ladyship,” Ruby smiled as she folded Emma’s dress over her arm.   


Sitting at her vanity, Emma smiled. She capped her lipstick and put it aside, removing her diamond earrings. “Thank you,” she smiled, “I hope his Lordship thinks so.”  


“If I may say so,” Ruby began, remaining in place near the closet, “love looks very good on you. I’m so glad to see you happy.”  


Turning, Emma smiled and stood. She moved to her maid and pulled her into a tight embrace. “You’ve always been so good to me.”  


“You deserve it,” Ruby fought back tears. She was extremely lucky to have secured such a position with Emma. “Now I’d best go, or he’ll burst with anticipation.” She whispered and pulled back from the hug.  


Emma laughed softly and stepped back to the bed. “Goodnight, Ruby.”  


The maid ducked out of the door and closed it carefully. She looked up as she exited the room to see Nolan leaving his Lordship’s own bedroom. They shared a knowing smirk as they walked together back downstairs.  


Emma brushed her hair back away from her face with her fingers. She cleared her throat and took in a deep breath. A soft knock sounded at the door between the two bedrooms. She smiled and bit down on her lower lip, “Come in.”  


Killian entered the room, letting the door close behind him. He had a warm smile across his features. He had left the cane in his room, determined not to look so disabled at this particular moment. His beautiful wife stood at the foot of her bed, just as she had over a year ago, in a white lace robe and silk chemise.   


“You’re the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen,” he said quietly.   


“Thank you,” Emma replied. She pulled open her robe and laid it on the bed before moving closer to him.   


Stepping forward, Killian met her halfway and slid his left arm around her back, pulling her close. His lips met hers in a slow, deep kiss. Emma’s nimble hands pushed his robe away from his shoulders, letting it pool at his feet. She parted her lips slightly and accepted his waiting tongue, moaning ever-so-lightly against his mouth.  


The pair moved slowly toward the bed, Emma pushing Killian’s pajama shirt from his frame. She was careful of his still-bandaged arm, which was incredibly slow to heal. Breaking the kiss, Emma dragged her fingers down his bare chest and slid her hands over the bandage on his left wrist. She pulled his arm up and placed a kiss on the end of the bandage. She smiled and rubbed it slowly, remembering he had indicated before that it was mostly pain-free.   


Killian smiled at the gesture. “It doesn’t make you uncomfortable?”  


Emma shook her head, “Of course not. You’re still you,” she smiled and moved to slide the straps of her chemise down off of her shoulders. It fell to her waist before she pushed it down away from her hips. Standing before him in nothing but a pair of lace underthings, she breathed in deeply, exuding a confidence he had not ever seen in her before he left.  


“May I touch you?” He asked quietly. He knew she had given him permission before, when they bathed together, but he wanted to make sure she was ready in every way.  


Nodding slowly, Emma took his hand in hers and guided it to her breast. With a smirk, she tugged him closer to her by slipping her fingers into the waistband of his pants. She kissed him again, moving one hand up to slide into his thick, dark hair.   


Killian’s hand cupped the weight of her breast, rubbing in slow circles with his palm as her nipple pebbled beneath his touch. He returned her kiss, pressing his body against hers until her legs met the bed frame behind her. It took but a moment for them to maneuver onto the luxurious bedding.   


Emma laid on her back, eyes closed as Killian’s lips trailed over her skin. With his hand remaining on one breast, his mouth found the opposite nipple, his tongue flicking over it. She swallowed hard and gasped, shivering with delight. His kisses trailed down her taut stomach until he paused at the waistband to her panties. His hand fumbled slightly over them until he found snaps on her hip, tugging to release them. With a few tiny clicks, the garment came free, and he pulled them oh-so-slowly down her long, smooth legs, enjoying each inch of her body.  


He stood and removed the remainder of his clothing, with his very prominent erection on display. Emma reached for him, but he clicked his tongue and shook his head. Leaning down to kiss her, he whispered against her lips, “You’re not nearly ready enough.”  


She was a bit confused, but let him take control, since he likely knew more what to do than her books could have instructed. His hand moved down between her legs, stroking slowly along her thighs before his fingers found her center. With the gentlest of touches, he stroked carefully along her folds, fingertips dancing in slow circles around her clit. Emma’s lips parted and she breathed soundlessly, staring up at the fabric canopy above, a fire building in her belly. Killian kissed once again down her body and disappeared between her legs. When she felt him on her fiery skin again, it was his tongue, licking long, slow laps at the cleft between her thighs. Grasping the duvet tightly, she twisted it in her hands as Killian slung her leg up over his shoulder and very gently pressed a finger against her entrance. Emma whimpered softly, a sort of longing ache building inside of her.   


“Alright up there, Love?” He asked quietly, continuing to rub against her with his fingertips.  


She nodded, taking in a deep breath. “Yes,” she muttered, “don’t stop.”  


“As you wish,” he replied, then wrapped his lips around her clit and very carefully slid his finger inside of her. Feeling her slick heat wrapped tightly around his finger, he moaned as his erection throbbed. He sucked at her nub and thrust his finger in steady movements inside of her, curling it slightly to press against the most sensitive place inside of her.  


Emma’s leg tightened over his shoulders. He could hear tiny whimpers of pleasure as he slid a second finger inside of her and increased the pace of his movements. She was winding up tightly, and it seemed almost any second, she would find her release. Before he would make love to her, he wanted to make absolutely sure she felt no pain whatsoever. Only pleasure would befall his Emma in his arms.  


“Oh God,” Emma cried, gasping for air. She arched her back, toes curling as a wave of ecstasy washed over her body. She could feel her walls pulsing around his hand as he stroked her slick insides. He sat up carefully with the support of his left elbow and made his way up to her, leaning down ever-so-slightly to press his lips against hers.  


“What...was...that?!” Emma asked, her chest heaving as she stared into his eyes, returning his kiss between her words.  


He chuckled softly and shook his head. “That’s what making love is supposed to be, my darling,” he smirked. “It should always be like that. Curse me if it isn’t.”  


Emma laughed and kissed him again as her hand found his painfully-hard cock and pumped it a few times. He groaned against her mouth and pushed her legs further apart with his left arm. “You’re certain?” He asked in a whisper. Killian stared down into her eyes, shifting his hips lower and away from Emma’s grasp.   


Swallowing hard to choke back any remaining hesitation, Emma nodded. “I love you,” she whispered, “please make love to me, Killian.” She placed her hands on his shoulders and pressed her lips to his.  


In keeping with his promise to make love to her only upon her request, he moved carefully, pressing into her at a torturously slow pace. He groaned, breaking their kiss to lean his forehead against hers. His eyes shut tightly at the way her body squeezed his length, stretching slowly to accommodate him.  


Emma gripped Killian’s shoulders, expecting the worst. She remembered a fiery pain as it ripped through her that New Year’s Eve, her body being torn apart by her attacker. But now, now it was different. She felt a gentle stretching as he pressed into her, and then a feeling of wholeness. As if her body were perfectly made to fit with his. Watching as Killian opened his eyes to gaze down at her, she smiled and nodded, signaling for him to continue.  


He grinned and moved, establishing a steady pace, thrusting his hips against hers. “You feel so bloody good, Love,” he whispered, followed by a low moan. Bracing himself with his left elbow, he reached down between them and rubbed his fingers in careful circles against her clit. Emma gasped, the feeling this time entirely different, but still amazing, with him inside of her.  


“Yes,” she whispered, holding tighter to him, “oh that feels lovely, Killian.” Emma groaned and arched her back to press her body against his, moving her hips just slightly in-time. He buried his face in the crook of her neck and pushed just a little harder and slightly faster, maintaining the angle she preferred. He knew he would not hold out long, given the circumstances.  


“Oh fuck,” he muttered, his breath hot against her neck. He closed his eyes tightly and moved his hand to her hip, pushing deeper into her slick folds. “Emma, I…”  


The deep, rapid thrusts put Emma over her edge once more, and she moaned loudly, pressing her head back into the pillow as she dragged her fingernails across his shoulders. Killian cried out against her skin as he came, her walls fluttering around his thick cock and milking him of his release. He slowed his movements to a stop, resting just against her body, breathing heavily.  


Coming down from her high, Emma hummed softly and placed tender kisses against his neck. He raised up again and looked into her eyes. “Are you okay?” He asked in a whisper, “Nothing hurt, right? Was it alright?”  


“No pain,” Emma smiled before giving him a slow kiss. “And it was perfect. You’ll be lucky if I let you out of bed for the next few months.”  


With a low chuckle, he shifted to lay beside her, catching his breath from the exertion. Emma turned onto her side and threaded her fingers into the soft curls upon his chest. She nuzzled against his shoulder and smiled.   


“I guess it’s a bit late to be asking,” he laughed, rubbing his hand over his face, “but...I’d be quite pleased if we could have a child someday. Would you...are you open to such a thing?”  


She smirked and sat up slightly to look at him. Killian ran his fingers through her soft hair as he looked at her. “I did nothing to prevent it tonight. I hope very much that we will be so lucky.”  



	10. Chapter 10

November 1917   


The house was a flurry of activity during preparations for the Honeymoon journey. Emma had insisted that house staff remain on the payroll but take time for themselves while they were gone. In a rather unusual move, the Lord and Lady had declined to take their maid and valet along on the journey with them.   


Despite the continuing conflict in Europe, into which the Americans had recently joined, Emma had managed to book passage to the United States on the White Star Line. They were guaranteed their own luxury cabin and access to all the First Class passage had to offer.  


“You’re certain you can do without me, sir?” Nolan asked, tucking a shirt into one of Killian’s trunks.  


With a chuckle, Killian gave a nod. “Yes, yes,” he smirked, “I did just fine without a valet for most of my life, and I’m sure her Ladyship is capable of helping me with the more difficult tasks.” He wiggled the snap shut on his prosthetic hand and adjusted the look of the grip, to make it seem more natural.  


“Very good, sir,” Nolan smiled and picked up a freshly-pressed pair of trousers to place in the trunk.  


“Big plans, Nolan?” Killian inquired, raising an eyebrow as he sorted through the various suits in his wardrobe.  


David’s cheeks turned slightly pink, “Well, sir, I meant to ask after one of the cottages near the back of the property. I’ve saved up some money, and I think I’d be interested in renting one from you. And hopefully moving in during these next couple of weeks.”  


Killian blinked and turned to his valet, “Why would you rent from me when you’ve got your room and board covered here in the attics?” He had toured the attics upon his arrival and knew them to be far more comfortable than he had ever afforded on his own.  


“I intend to be married, sir,” Nolan said, standing a bit taller. The young man had broad, strong shoulders and sparkling blue eyes. “If that is okay with you, your Lordship.”  


“You lucky dog, you!” Killian grinned, clapping Nolan on his shoulder. He laughed and watched as Nolan blushed even more, the red spilling down below his collar. “I had no idea. Who is the lucky lass, then?”  


“W-well I haven’t...asked her yet, but…” Nolan fumbled with the words, twisting his hands. “Mary-Margaret Blanchard, sir. She’s a housemaid here?”  


Very proud of the young man he had served alongside, Killian nodded. “A fine young woman, as I understand. I think she’ll be happy to be with you, David. And you needn’t worry about the rent. If you’re both to live there, we’ll consider it paid. I’ll discuss it with Emma tonight before we leave.”  


“Thank you, sir!” Nolan grinned broadly.  


\--  


Although they were safely installed in the central First Class dining room on the RMS Baltic, Emma could not help but remain tense. Between courses of the first dinner aboard the ship, Emma tucked her hand underneath the table and slid her hand into Killian’s grasp. She squeezed tightly with every rocking movement of the large ocean liner.  


Leaning over to his wife, Killian whispered into her ear, “Come with me,” he stood and placed his napkin atop the table, muttering an excuse to their fellow passengers who eyed the couple curiously.  


Emma stood, somewhat embarrassed at her behavior, and followed along with Killian. He led her out onto the polished wooden promenade deck. The sun had set and the moon and stars were glowing brightly in a cool, clear night sky. Holding tightly to his wife’s hand, Killian led her out onto the open expanse of the bow deck.  


“Now,” he said softly, “what can I do to help you? You’re so tense, Love.”  


“You know why I hate these death traps, Killian,” Emma sighed, moving closer to him. There was an ocean breeze skating over them, which made her pull her fur ever tighter around her shoulders. “And on top of it all, we’re in danger of being sunk by German submarines.”  


“Aye, that we are,” he conceded, nodding, “but there’s little we can do, now. We should just enjoy the voyage, yes?”  


Emma shrugged and glanced around.  


“Would it help if I explained to you how these work, and what kinds of safety measures they have in place? Many strides have been made since your parents’ accident.” He slid his arm around her back and pulled her against him.   


She doubted he could help much, but she nodded.   


“Right,” Killian took her hand in his and began a slow waltz, much to Emma’s surprise. He gestured toward the floor and began explaining the mechanics of the engines. He discussed the coal fires for the boilers, the steam-powered engine rotation, and the large propellers at the back of the vessel. Nodding up to the bridge, he noted how the steering system worked and how the communications system had been improved to help them avoid perils upon the sea.   


Emma listened to his voice, watching his face as he spoke. Her husband was a kind, gentle sort of man, and he was the most patient man she had ever encountered. He took the time to ease her fears, of which it seemed she had many.   


“You look more surprised than anything,” Killian finally noted, taking in her expression.  


“Have you been studying behind my back, or did they teach you how to dance in the war?” She teased with a smirk.  


Turning Emma slowly around the empty decks and smiling down at her as they moved, he chuckled, “Well, the Navy did not teach me to dance, no,” he laughed, “but when Nolan and I were in training up near Scapa Flow, we had some time to kill and visited the local pub. We had dinner with a few of the men from our unit and they brought along some nurses. One of them taught me a few things.”  


Emma’s gaze narrowed slightly at him as he spoke. She lifted her chin a bit and let him finish without making the accusation that was on the tip of her tongue.  


“...I met a lass named Tink. Can’t remember what it was short for, but she was also married, unlike her counterparts. We sat whilst the untethered bunch made merry. We talked, and then decided it would be okay to dance. She taught me some steps. Purely instructional, I swear,” He searched her expression for understanding. Rightly, he probably should have told her about Tink before that moment.  


“I suppose I’ve no room for jealousy,” Emma said after a moment, though the thought of him dancing with another woman had already started picking away at her.   


Pausing in the dance, Killian blinked and watched her, hoping she would continue.  


“Nothing serious,” she gave him a knowing look, “but I had a rather indecent proposal flung my way while you were gone. We had dinner with Lady Humbert and a man named Mr. Booth. A professional baseball player from Boston. Well, former player. I thought he had a keen interest in my aunt. However, he seems to have had designs on some sort of elicit relationship with me, instead. I was disgusted. Slapped him right across the face.”  


A slow smile spread across Killian’s visage. He nodded slowly. “I’m proud of you,” he said with a soft chuckle.  


Emma’s eyebrow raised slowly, “Proud?”  


“You stood up to him,” he grinned, “that’s impressive.”  


With a smirk, Emma squeezed his hand. “I knew I loved my husband, and he was the only man I could ever possibly want.”  


Leaning in, Killian gave his wife a slow, tender kiss. He leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you too.”  


\--  


As the dinner crowd began meandering out onto the bow deck, Emma and Killian made their way back toward their stateroom. In the narrow hall, Killian fumbled in his pockets for the key.   


“Allow me,” Emma smirked, moving close to him. The hall was empty, a fact for which Killian was most thankful as Emma slid her slender hand into his trouser pocket. She dragged her hand along his upper thigh, toying with the key rather than fetching it.   


“Emma,” he whispered with a blush in his cheeks, “you’re bad.”  


“Mmhmm,” she slid her hand slightly to the left, pressing her body up against his back. The groan her husband gave told her she had found just the right spot to rub as he leaned his head against the door to their stateroom.  


“Please,” he moaned, and she giggled, fetching the key to hand over to him.  


He swiftly unlocked the door and turned, pulling her into the room with him and nearly slamming the door behind them. With a grunt, he pulled her close and found her mouth with his. His hand and prosthetic were on her shoulders, pushing away the fur that had kept her warm during their evening stroll.  


Emma moaned into his mouth, her hands busy with his trousers almost immediately. She had quickly grown to look forward to making love with her husband, and every time seemed to be a bit more adventurous than the last. Tonight, she was tipsy on just enough wine to give her courage to test the waters a bit more. She found herself successfully tugging open his pants, allowing them to fall around his ankles on the floor. Emma pulled back from the kiss, giving him a hungry smirk. She pushed at the straps on her flimsy gown and let it fall away from her body. She was nude, save for a pair of flimsy silk panties.   


Killian drank in the sight of his nearly-naked wife with a contented sigh and reached out for her. He moved closer, but found himself rejected with a click of her tongue and a raise of her hand. Pausing, he blinked a couple of times and raised an eyebrow in question.  


Emma grinned and sunk slowly to her knees in front of him. She moved forward and tugged at his white boxer shorts, pulling them carefully down from his waist. Her hands dragged over his thighs, then grasped his already-erect length with her hand, wrapping her slender fingers around him. She pumped his hardened member slowly, looking up at him with a smirk.   


“Oh, Emma,” he moaned, his knees nearly buckling from the feeling of her soft skin against his.   


She leaned in and let her tongue flick out, licking along the slit in the head of his cock. Killian’s hips bucked slightly and he groaned, eyes wide in surprise. He gasped loudly as she took him between her lips, wetting the entire head.  


“Fuck,” he whispered, swallowing hard. His hand found the back of her head, curling his fingers into her still-pinned blonde hair. He watched her closely, eyes focusing between her mouth and her lovely breasts, which bounced slightly as she moved her mouth over him.  


With one quick movement, Emma pushed most of his length into her mouth, her lips slick and tight against him. She loved the way he whimpered at the sensation of her tongue sliding along the underside of his length.   


Killian’s eyelids fluttered and he gripped her hair more tightly in his hand, tugging ever-so-gently at the strands where they met her scalp. He loved the sensations of her hot lips upon him, but he could hardly bear the thought of her bringing him to climax like this, when they had gone four months now without the slightest hint of a pregnancy. Pulling back from her, he glanced down at a disappointed-looking Emma upon the floor. He reached out with his hand, offering to help her to her feet.  


“Another time,” he grinned, chest heaving with anxious need. “Right now, I want you.”  


Standing, Emma felt herself pulled against his body. Her lips found his in a deep, slow kiss as he walked her back toward the door. His hand fiddled for a moment with the waistband of her panties, but he only managed to break the delicate threads on the button which held them up against her waist. She laughed as he pulled them down, mumbling an apology against her lips.  


“Ruby is going to scold me when we get home,” she teased him. Her tone was punctuated with a gasp as Killian lifted her body, pressing her back tightly against the door to the stateroom. His prosthetic was cool underneath her backside as he held her. He had certainly not lost any strength in the war; it was safe to say he was stronger than ever. His right hand moved between her legs as he brushed his fingertips against her wet center.  


“Fuck, Emma,” he muttered against her mouth, then broke away from the kiss to press his lips to her neck and shoulder. “You’re so wet for me,” he whispered, dipping two fingers inside of her core.  


Emma groaned and let her head fall back against the door, wrapping her legs tightly around him. Her hands grasped at the backs of his shoulders. “Yes,” she moaned, closing her eyes, “I need you inside me, Killian…”  


The moment was nowhere near as romantic as they had been in the past, but Killian could hardly wait another second. With a swivel of his hips, Killian removed his hand from her center and plunged his pulsing cock deep inside of her. Their days of hesitant intimacy were in the past. They had learned one another’s limits and tested them with confident curiosity.  


With a low whimper, Emma clung more tightly to her husband as he wasted no time in thrusting a steady rhythm inside of her. The roughness of his unshaven face tickled against her neck as he kissed her skin, letting his tongue dart out as he reached her earlobe.  


“Killian,” she moaned again, dragging her fingernails ever-so-slightly against his back. He gripped her backside tightly and thrust deeper inside of her, biting at her earlobe and dragging his teeth against her earring with a soft ‘click’. He knew that thanks to her previous treatment, he would not last long through this particular encounter.  


“Oh God, Emma,” he moaned, feeling his body tightening in anticipation. Holding her tightly, Killian cried out as he released inside of her, pressing her back tightly against the wooden door. Emma stroked the back of his neck lovingly as he came, smiling as she buried her face against his neck.  


“Minx,” he muttered, holding her still. Emma giggled and leaned her head back against the door again as he pulled back to look at her. “You got me all wound up.”  


“That was the plan, but you foiled it,” Emma gave him a pouty lip and wiggled her hips slightly. He hissed and laughed, pulling her away from the door and moving her toward the small bed in the room. He laid her down as carefully as he could and moved to lie beside her. Without missing a beat, he slid a hand between her thighs, leaning over to wrap his lips around her left nipple.   


Squirming, Emma bit down on her lower lip. She groaned as his fingers found her clit, stroking it in slow circles, his tongue flicking against the sensitive peak of her breast. His thumb took over rolling the tiny nub between her folds as he pushed his fingers back inside of her and curled them against her.  


Emma moaned louder than she anticipated, arching her back. After having been fucked up against the wall, she was half-wound herself. Her toes curled slightly as Killian moved his mouth to her other breast, licking slow circles around her nipple.   


Killian sucked at her perfect breast, letting his palm rub up against her as he thrust his fingers against her soaking wet core. With a juicy pop he pulled his mouth from her breast and peppered kisses along her stomach.   


Like a rubber band ready to snap, Emma felt the tension winding in her belly, and she panted as he lavished her body with attention. When his hot, wet mouth found her clit, she cried out, falling into oblivion, her core clenching around his fingers tightly as she rode them through her release. Panting heavily, Emma curled into his side once he wrapped his arms around her, kissing the top of her head.  


“Why did you stop me?” She asked after a moment, looking up at him.  


“Hmm?” Killian asked, his eyes heavy with the beginnings of sleep.  


“When I was on the floor, you stopped me,” Emma rubbed his chest slowly. “Why?”  


It took a moment for the thoughts to return to him, but he finally answered with a yawn, “I didn’t want to waste an opportunity...to conceive.”  


She frowned and considered for a moment, then sat up slightly, supporting herself on her elbows. Killian drank in the sight of her, nude and positively glowing in the dim light of their cabin.   


“Are you worried?”  


He shrugged and rubbed her back. “It’s been four months hasn’t it? Since we began trying?”  


“...is that unusual?” Emma was somewhat ignorant about how long it took to conceive. She bit down on her lower lip. “...you don’t think something’s wrong, do you? I mean, with me?”  


“Of course not!” Killian shook his head quickly and moved to give her a tender kiss, his hand on her cheek. “I’m certain it isn’t you. I just...I know for some it happens even the first time.”  


Nodding, Emma laid down next to him once more and stared up at the ceiling.  


“Don’t think of it, Love,” he murmured against her neck, nuzzling it gently. “Let’s just enjoy ourselves, hm?”  


With a nod and a forced smile, Emma turned out the light, curling up against her husband and pulling up the sheets to sleep.  



	11. Chapter 11

With Killian’s help, the passage from England to America was much more enjoyable than the trip she had taken to England, initially. Each day on their journey, he would explain the way the ship worked, taking her for strolls along the decks. Each night, they would make love and fall asleep in one another’s arms, lulled by the rocking ship upon the waves.  


It was the beginning of a month-long honeymoon in America, starting with a day in New York before catching a train across the Plains.   


“Come on, you’ll miss it,” Emma grinned, dragging Killian down the stairs to the main deck. She grinned ear-to-ear, hurrying out onto the wooden deck, pulling her husband along.   


He chuckled, following behind and basking in her childlike enthusiasm. “What did you call it again, Love?”  


“She...is Lady Liberty,” Emma smiled, pointing to the large copper statue covered in a green patina. She leaned against the deck’s railing and admired the statue. Killian stepped up behind his wife and slid his arms around her waist. The black-gloved wooden hand he wore at the end of his left wrist was articulated into a natural resting position, fingers bent just slightly. He kissed the exposed back of her neck and nuzzled against her cheek as they took in the sight of the welcoming statue.  


\--  


With the help of a few phone calls prior to leaving England, the Swan house on Central Park West had been brought back to life. Emma fished the key from her handbag and twisted it within the lock, opening the front door. Creaking slightly on its hinges, it opened to the parlor, decorated in the Edwardian style her mother had loved. A fresh vase of red roses had been placed upon the table inside. Emma stepped forth and picked up the card, reading.  


_Killian and Emma,_  


_Wishing you all of the best on your Honeymoon. Enjoy a dinner at the Union Club on me tonight, before your departure to San Francisco. The staff has prepared the Master Suite for your stay._  


_With all of my love,_  


_Regina_  


Emma smiled and handed the card to Killian before moving around the house, taking in the sight of everything, still precisely as she had left it.  


Killian smiled as he read the card, then followed cautiously behind Emma. He was concerned about staying in the house where she had recovered from her assault, but she had insisted on facing the memories.  


“It’s a lovely place,” Killian offered after a moment, pulling away his scarf.   


Emma turned with a smile and nodded, “Yes, it is. I had a very nice childhood, here. Well, until my parents passed.”  


He was fully aware of the fate of the Swans. The pair had spent hours discussing their families since his return from the war. He stepped up to place a tender kiss against her temple. “Would you like to show me around now, or after dinner?”  


“After dinner,” she smiled and leaned into his embrace, “I’m starving.”  


\--  


The lights were dim at the Union Club as Killian and Emma entered. Emma wore one of her favorite gowns, a deep green silk with gold brocade, which paired well with the color of her eyes. She wore a warm ivory-colored fur around her shoulders, her arm casually draped through Killian’s. The pair most certainly turned heads as they strolled toward their table.   


As they were seated, a couple at the next table leaned closer to one another and whispered. Emma shifted slightly in her chair and swallowed hard, avoiding the stares. She glanced down at the table and fiddled with her gown for a long moment, only looking up as a waiter approached the table.  


“I’ll have a gin and tonic, please,” Emma requested. She tapped her foot nervously against the floor. In a moment, a warm hand clasped over hers. She looked up into the gaze of her husband, whose eyebrow was raised in a questioning manner.  


“You alright, Love?” He squeezed her hand softly, “We don’t have to stay if you’re not feeling up to it.”  


She blushed slightly and shook her head, “I’m fine, really. Just...I know a lot has been said about me, here in New York, and now that we’ve returned...I’m sure it’s all being repeated.”  


“Hey,” he shifted his chair closer to hers and shook his head, “none of it matters, Emma. You’re a married woman now, and what you do is none of their business.”  


Emma rolled her eyes slightly, “I don’t think you understand.”  


Before he could protest, Killian looked up to a pair standing next to the table. The man had cleared his throat.   


“Pardon the interruption,” the man smiled and gave a slight nod of his head, “but we just had to come say hello.”  


Emma glanced up at the couple. She smiled slowly and got to her feet, offering her hand, “Sean, Ella...is that really you?”  


“Yes!” Ella Herman squealed with delight and pulled Emma into a tight hug. The man whom Emma had called Sean rolled his eyes slightly and shared a smirk with Killian, who stood as well. “I’m so excited to see you! I heard you got married in England to like an Earl or something!”  


Emma pulled back and laughed, shaking her head, “Ah, yes I got married...this is my husband Lord Killian Jones, Marquess of Matlock.” She gestured to Killian and gave him a wink.  


“Oh, wow...should we bow?” Sean did so nervously, and Ella followed with a curtsey.   


Emma laughed loudly, clamping her hand over her mouth.  


“No, no,” Killian waved his hand with a laugh, “not necessary, certainly not in the States. It’s a pleasure.”  


“So wait, what does that make you?” Ella asked Emma with a raise of her eyebrow.   


“Emma is Marchioness of Matlock. Lady Jones,” Killian answered, sliding his left arm around his wife’s waist, “doesn’t the title suit her?”  


“Very well,” Sean answered with a smile. “I always knew you were destined for great things, Emma.”  


Blushing, Emma cleared her throat and gestured to Ella and Sean, “Killian, this is Sean and Ella Herman. Friends of mine from here in New York. I was a bridesmaid in their wedding.”  


The waiter brought drinks to the table as Ella gushed over Emma’s wardrobe. Killian invited the pair to stay and enjoy dinner with them.   


“So, my wedding was the only thing...you heard about me?” Emma asked casually of Ella as Killian and Sean discussed the differences between baseball and cricket.   


Ella pursed her lips and leaned in, “Well, I know why you left. And trust me, no one believes what Mr. Cassidy had to say about you.”  


Blinking, Emma watched her friend closely. “You mean...they know I...I didn’t willingly --”  


The other woman took Emma’s hand into hers and held it tightly as she spoke, “Emma, after you left and people were kind of spreading rumors, it happened again. He attacked Tamara Wilson.”  


“Oh my God,” Emma whispered, tears coming to her eyes. “If I’d have...called the police maybe…”  


“She did,” Ella shrugged, “they let him go. Her word against his. Would have been the same for you. But we all knew because of what happened to you, first.”  


“I have to see her,” she said quickly, “is she still living in town?” Her mind began to reel over ways to postpone the honeymoon trip so they could spend time helping Tamara mend.  


Ella paled slightly and shook her head. “You were luckier than her, I’m afraid. She fell pregnant. Couldn’t live with the thought of carrying his baby. She went to this lady in Harlem who can, you know, take care of these things, and...something went wrong...she passed away in September.”  


A tear fell slowly down Emma’s cheek. She squeezed Ella’s hand tightly. “Thank you. Thank you for telling me this.”  


“I’m so glad it didn’t happen to you, Emma,” Ella sighed. “You made it out of here. You’re...perfect. Your life is perfect, now. And I’m so happy for you. He...is gorgeous. And so sweet.”  


Laughing through her tears, Emma nodded and smiled a watery smile at her husband, who frowned and reached out to slide his arm around her waist with a questioning look. “I am very lucky, indeed. Perfect...I would not say so, but definitely amazing.”  


Ella laughed and shook her head, lifting her martini glass to her lips. “What else could you possibly want?”  


“Well,” Emma shrugged, “a baby would be nice. So far, no such luck.” She tried to put on a brave face about it, but felt herself failing.  


Ella waved her hand and shook her head, “Really, not such a big deal. Sean and I have a little girl. Alexandra. She’s just...ugh, I’m so glad the nanny takes care of her most of the time.” She blonde woman rolled her eyes. “Honestly just enjoy yourself. It’ll happen.”  


Emma forced a smile and nodded, thinking again about Tamara.  


\--  


Early morning, just before dawn, and Emma was shuffling into their suite aboard the train that would take them to Chicago. She had booked a luxury suite on the locomotive, and the space was all theirs for the nearly two-day journey. The suite was top-of-the-line with blue velvet seats and dark wood paneling. The windows allowed bright sunlight into the small area, but could be shaded for rest. As they stepped inside, Emma removed her hat and tucked it up into a cabinet above the seating area.  


“This is lovely,” Killian smiled and shuffled the suitcases into place, “you did very well with this.”  


She smiled and gave him a tender kiss. “Thank you. And thank you for listening to me last night. I know I was not much fun.”  


“Emma, I’m here to listen,” Killian smiled and raised his hand to brush his fingertips across her cheek. “Always.”  


The steam horn of the locomotive sounded and the pair settled into their cabin. Emma kicked off her boots and curled up next to Killian, her head on his shoulder as the train began to move. She flipped idly through the pages of the novel she had brought with her, Treasure Island. Killian perused the newspaper for a bit, then collapsed the periodical into a corner and toyed with the ends of Emma’s hair where they escaped from the pins holding them aloft.  


“Ella says children are not that big of a deal,” Emma mused after an extended silence.   


“Hmm?” Killian asked, raising an eyebrow and turning to look at her.  


“I can’t imagine saying such a thing,” she sighed and sat up, putting her book aside. “Why even have children if you’re just going to pass them off to the au pair?”  


With a chuckle, Killian shrugged. “Some people are meant to have them. Some are not.”  


“Do you believe we are?” Emma asked, facing her husband.   


He studied her face for a long moment. A soft breeze floated through the compartment, causing a whisp of hair to dance across Emma’s concerned forehead. He reached up and brushed it back, gazing into her eyes. “I want to believe we are. Perhaps God did not intend it that way. But I will never stop trying to have a family with you.”  


Emma swallowed hard and took in a deep breath. “I know there is pressure on the estate, as well. I want to give you a son to whom we can pass Kentledge. I genuinely do.”  


“I am sure you will,” he smiled and leaned in to kiss her softly, barely brushing his lips against hers.  


Her eyes remained closed for a moment before she stood and moved to the hall door. She pulled down the shade on the windowed portal and turned back to Killian.   


One of his eyebrows raised slowly as he glanced at his wife. She gave a bit of a wiggle where she stood and he chuckled, amused by her little dance.  


“Are you going to do a fertility dance for us, Lady Jones?” he teased.  


Emma smirked and hiked up her skirt slightly. Her panties fell down to the carpeted floor of the compartment. She stepped closer to a very surprised Killian and leaned forward, grasping the belt buckle on his trousers. “Of sorts,” she finally replied, tugging his belt open.  


“You naughty girl,” he muttered, reaching for the buttons on her shirt. He only had the top button unfastened before he felt Emma’s warm hand reaching into his pants. He groaned loudly and let his head fall back against the plush seat.   


“You said you’d never stop trying,” she giggled, pulling his stiffening cock from the confines of his trousers. “So try for me?” She lifted her skirts up around her waist, giving him just a flash of the beautiful place where her thighs met. Climbing onto his lap, she hovered just over him, straddling his waist.   


He slid his prosthetic hand under her skirts and pinned them up around her middle. Emma’s hands took over at her blouse, and within moments, her gorgeous breasts were freed from their chemise.   


“Bloody beautiful, Emma,” he murmured, leaning forward to press his face between her cleavage. He kissed over her breasts slowly, his right hand ghosting over her inner thighs.  


She rolled her hips slightly, letting her already-slick folds rub over the head of his anxious member. Her eyes fluttering, she let the tip of his hard length rub against her most sensitive places in long, slow strokes. She felt warm and tingly as she sank down onto him, enveloping nearly every inch of him. With a groan, she tipped her head back and slid her fingers into his hair.   


“Oh Killian,” she whispered with a swivel of her hips. She lifted up just slightly before pressing back down, feeling all of him inside of her, filling her completely.  


He shivered with pleasure, sliding his hand up to her hip. He gripped her tightly and forced his eyes open to watch her as she rocked up and down slowly atop him. “Luckiest man...in the world…” he muttered, smirking at her. She was a vision with her violet skirts cinched up around her waist, bare underneath save for her garters and stockings.   


Reaching up, Emma pulled a pin from her hair and sent it cascading down around her shoulders. She leaned forward, pressing her bust into Killian’s face as she gripped his shoulders and rode him in time with the rhythmic clickity-clack of the train on its rails. She bit down hard on her lower lip and ground herself against him with each dip of her hips, sending jolts of needy ecstasy down her legs.   


Killian groaned and inhaled her scent deeply, letting his tongue slip out to taste the faint salt of her skin as it grew damp with sweat. He nibbled slowly along her collarbone and up the side of her neck, his warm breath against her. As he emitted a louder moan, Killian found Emma’s palm against his mouth. His eyes went slightly wide and she brought a finger to her lips.  


“Shhh,” she reminded him, given that they were sharing a train car with a few other parties. Granted, she doubted they could hear him over the noise of the wheels against the tracks, but she wanted to be cautious all the same.  


With a wink, Killian slipped his hand down between her legs and rolled her clit quickly with his thumb. “Let’s see how quiet you can be…” he challenged her, watching the reaction to his touch register in her features. She glared and bit her lip once more, her eyes focused straight upon his. Emma’s own hand gripped at her breast, squeezing it tightly, rolling her nipple between her fingertips. It took mere seconds for her to throw her head back in a silent scream, having been nudged over the edge by her husband’s coaxing hand. She gasped for air as her walls fluttered around his length. Her legs were burning with exertion, and her breathlessness was exacerbated by the strength of her orgasm.  


Killian groaned softly at the way she maintained her silence as she came. He carefully lifted her, maneuvering her half-clothed body to lie back on the bench seat. Throwing one of her legs over his shoulder, he pressed into her once more, pushing hard and deep inside of her.  


Emma gasped and moaned louder than she anticipated, reaching back behind her for the drapes that surrounded the windows to the outside. The train was in the middle of nowhere by this time, and she knew they would not be seen as their carriage sped quickly through the plains. Gripping the drapes in her fist, she held tight and wrapped her other leg around his waist.  


“Oh God, Killian,” Emma whimpered, watching his powerful body work over hers. “Yes, harder…”  


He quickly obliged, switching up the angle of his thrusts in hopes of pushing his wife to another climax. He was nearing the edge himself, but found himself quickly rewarded as Emma twisted the drapes in her hand and arched her back, squeezing tightly around him. With a soft cry, he released into her, leaning forward and bracing himself over her body with his hand. He breathed deeply, watching Emma’s eyelashes flutter in pleasure. He loved to watch her come for him, and twice in one afternoon was a treat to be sure.   


“I think we’re off to a good start,” Emma panted softly, releasing her death grip on the drapes, “just the way a honeymoon should be, no?” She giggled softly and leaned up to give him a slow kiss.  


He returned the kiss and grinned. “Absolutely.”  



	12. Chapter 12

The breeze coming off of the ocean was warm as Emma and Killian strolled down a dimly-lit San Francisco street. She remained close to him, fingers laced with his prosthetic ones. Despite the fact that he was not born with it, Emma found herself seeing the prosthetic as very much a part of him.  


Together they walked past a row of pubs, with Killian giving a little dance as they passed one with particularly lively music. Emma giggled and allowed herself to be swept into his arms, where they danced in the middle of the street. Holding tightly to her husband, Emma squealed with delight and sang along with the rowdy bar crowd as the music escalated into a repetitive chorus.   


As the song ended, Emma laughed once more and gave her husband a slow, tender kiss where they stood on the street. She smiled and leaned her forehead against his. “Do we have to go back?”  


“Yes, I’m afraid we do,” Killian frowned slightly, “although I thought you felt England to be your home, now?”  


“It is,” she smiled and pulled back, leaving her arms around his neck. She stood high on her toes as they swayed slightly in the moonlight. “I just rather prefer being alone with you.”  


“We can be alone whenever you’d like, your Ladyship,” he teased her, “I couldn’t give a toss what the staff thinks of us spending all day alone in our rooms, honestly.”  


“Scandal,” Emma smirked, “a man who genuinely loves his wife?”  


Killian grinned and shrugged, “I like to consider myself a rather rebellious sort.”  


“Hey,” came a voice from the pub. A man swaggered in their general direction, his footsteps heavy and unsteady with drink. “I know you.”  


Turning his head, Killian raised an eyebrow. “I beg your pardon?” Emma’s grip tightened upon him and he turned to look at her, noting the way the color drained from her usually rosy complexion.   


“I mean, I know you, you know?” The man laughed and stepped closer, “In the biblical sense.”  


Emma’s throat was dry as she tried to speak or scream or curse but nothing at all would come.  


“Excuse me? How dare you speak to my wife like that,” Killian narrowed his gaze at the man. Emma finally managed to squeak beside him.  


“Neal,” she shuddered as she said his name and clung tightly to her husband.   


Hearing the name in conjunction with the foul language made Killian’s blood boil. He pushed Emma slightly behind him and stood a bit taller, glaring daggers at the other man. “You,” Killian warned, stepping forward, “I know what you’ve done.”  


“Oh, she told you, eh? Was that before or after she snagged a title from you?” Taking a swig from the brown liquor bottle in his hand, Neal stepped closer to Killian, his eyes unfocused and hazy.  


“P-please,” Emma stuttered, reaching out for Killian’s arm. “Let’s just go.”  


“I know all about this arrangement, Emma,” Neal crowed, a wicked grin on his features, “You married this ridiculous waste of a man to escape the fact that everyone in the States knows you’re a wanton whore.”  


Stepping out from behind Killian, Emma quickly lifted her leg, her pointed shoe making contact with a sensitive place between Neal’s legs. He groaned, falling to the ground and spitting curses like a sailor. With another kick, she thrust her pointed toe boot into his front teeth. The man leaned backward, collapsing onto the street with a thud.  


“Emma!” Killian shouted, but he was secretly proud. He pulled her close and held her against him, brushing his hand over her back. “That was…”  


“I’m sorry,” she muttered into his chest, her heart racing a million miles a minute. “I don’t know what came over me.”  


“Brilliant,” Killian laughed and kissed her forehead. “You’re bloody brilliant.”  


\--  


Weeks passed before Lord and Lady Jones returned home to Kentledge. Emma felt satisfied that the journey had given the two of them ample time to learn more about one another, as well as give them time away from the suffocating lives they lived upon the estate. Luxury often came with a price, and that price was almost never being left alone.  


Although he was not yet paying for his crimes against at least two women, Emma felt somewhat satisfied following her encounter with Neal. Killian had expressed his determination to have the man prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law, but the fact of the matter remained that Emma found herself able to stand up to her former attacker. She was no longer afraid of the man and what he had done to her. A sense of peace washed over her after that night, which she had not felt in ages.  


The locomotive came to a steamy stop at Matlock station, and coach passengers began filing out of the carriages, including several young men in their uniforms. The weather was once again cold, and Christmastime was coming near.   


In their carriage, Killian shook Emma awake. She had been feeling poorly since they had disembarked in Liverpool. Her head rested upon his lap as the train arrived in the station.  


“We’re home, darling,” he whispered, stroking her hair.   


Emma sat up slowly and yawned, stretching out her arms with a heavy sigh. “I simply cannot wait to be back in our own bed,” she muttered, reaching for her hat. She pinned it back into place as Killian moved to open the door of the carriage and step down. He offered his hand up to his wife, who placed her palm easily into his and climbed off of the locomotive.  


“Welcome back,” said a quickly-approaching Robin. He helped retrieve some of the couple’s monogrammed suitcases from the porters as Killian and Emma stretched their legs. “Did you have a nice trip?”  


“I believe we did,” Killian said with a grin. He rubbed Emma’s back slowly. “However, I think it’s best if we save the details for another time. Her Ladyship is not feeling well.”  


“I’ll be fine,” Emma muttered, shuffling off toward where the automobiles were waiting, “Simply tired.”  


Robin glanced up at his friend as Emma left and he cleared his throat. “If you’ve got a moment when we return to the house, I’d like to speak to you.”  


Killian was surprised at Robin’s formality and nodded slowly, “Everything alright, Old Chap?”  


“Yeah, yeah, I, um, just need to tell you a few things,” Robin smiled and took off toward the cars, followed slowly by Killian.  


\--  


Kentledge was excitable as the master and mistress returned home. The servants were all lined up outside of the front doors, hands folded neatly behind their backs at the direction of Mr. Gold.   


Killian stepped out of the car and waved to the staff, who all gave a bit of a cheer and waved in return. The house was most definitely a splendid place to work, as they had all been given paid time off to enjoy themselves while Lord and Lady Matlock were away. Emma followed behind him, gripping his hand tightly to steady herself upon exiting the car. She gave a slight smile to the house staff. Ruby and Nolan hurried to the back of the car to fetch the suitcases.  


Mr. Gold stepped up, nodding politely to Killian, “Did you have an enjoyable journey, sir?”  


“We did, thank you very much,” Killian responded with a smile, releasing Emma’s hand to grip the servant’s palm in greeting.   


Ruby suddenly shrieked and the remaining staff gasped as Emma collapsed onto the gravel drive, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.  


“Emma!” Killian ran to her side and shook her by the shoulders, “Emma! Someone call a doctor!”  


The Lady of the house did not stir as the staff rushed to find the telephone, fetch smelling salts, and pour basins of cool water. As she remained unresponsive, Killian slid his arms beneath her and lifted her from the ground, turning back to the house.  


“Allow me, sir?” Nolan asked, stepping up. The young man was tall and strong, but Killian would not relent in his carry of his wife.   


“I’ve got her,” he muttered, shifting her weight in his arms. “Just get the doors.”  


\--  


“This is almost exactly what happened to Emma’s mother,” Regina insisted as she sat upon a settee in the drawing room, threading a needle for her cross stitch. She smirked, pleased with herself.   


“What do you mean?” Killian asked, his brow furrowed as he paced the room, his good hand in his pocket while his prosthetic dangled at his side, “She had episodes like this?”  


Regina laughed, obviously less concerned than her nephew for Emma’s safety, “No, no,” she waved the thought away, “when Emma’s mother fell pregnant with her, she fainted dead away. Just like how you said Emma did. Was tired all day, feeling quite ill, and then boom! The physician confirmed she was carrying Emma.”  


Killian paused behind the sofa, moving his hand to the back of it. He blinked a couple of times, then bowed his head and hid a slight smile. “So you think she may be...?”  


“Of course! By now it has to be so,” Regina noted. “You’re a year and a half married. You’ve just gone on a month-long journey. I’d certainly hope there’s a little one coming soon!”  


The Lord of the manor blushed. Robin turned from his place on the sofa and cleared his throat. “Don’t worry about it, Mate,” he smiled, “I’m sure everything’s fine.”  


There was a knock at the door. Doctor Whale stepped inside and glanced to Killian. “May I speak to his Lordship privately, please?”  


Robin stood, and Regina followed, leaving her stitching behind. She gave Killian a gentle squeeze upon his forearm and an encouraging smile. Once the door was closed behind them, Doctor Whale cleared his throat.   


“Your Lordship,” he began, then paused, “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you.”  


Killian’s eyes widened. “Bad news? You mean...she’s not...with child?”  


Whale shook his head sadly. “I did not conduct that kind of examination, but if she were with child this would likely be a worse scenario. Her Ladyship is exhibiting signs of an illness which has been seen mostly in areas of Spain and the United States. I understand you’ve recently returned from a journey to the States, is that correct?”  


“Illness? ...yes, we arrived this morning,” Killian answered, shaking his head. “What kind of illness?”  


“It is a strain of influenza I had not yet seen in this area, but it seems to be spreading rather quickly,” Doctor Whale replied, his expression grave. “It is a condition which can be fatal. I...I will dedicate all of my resources to her, but intervention has been spotty, at best.”  


“I need to see her,” Killian moved quickly toward the door.  


“I suggest you wear a mask in her presence, your Lordship,” Doctor Whale fetched one from his bag and held it out, “this is a highly-contagious condition, and we don’t want to lose you both. The estate needs you.”  


Killian sprinted up the stairs and jogged down the hall to Emma’s room. Ruby was at her bedside in a mask, dabbing along Emma’s hairline with a cloth. Killian stepped to the other side and took his wife’s hand into his.   


“Emma?” He asked quietly. Her skin was hot to the touch, and the fever was evident in the redness of her cheeks. She opened her eyes and squeezed his hand. Killian offered a sad smile. “How are you feeling, my love?”  


A tear slipped from Emma’s eye, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”  


“Shhh,” he leaned forward and touched his lips to her burning forehead. “Don't worry yourself, Love, it’ll do you no good.”  


Emma nodded slowly and closed her eyes. She groaned, turning onto her side. With a wheezing gasp, she coughed hard and pushed her face into her pillow to stifle it. Killian rubbed her back slowly, shaking his head. He glanced up to see Doctor Whale in the doorway, an apologetic look written upon his features.  


\--  


Once Emma had fallen asleep with the assistance of some laudanum, Killian moved into the hallway and carefully removed the cotton mask. He took in a deep breath and glanced back into the room at his sleeping wife. “Is there anything at all that we can do? I’ll spare no expense to have her well again.”  


Doctor Whale shook his head. “The cough is what worries me the most,” he muttered lowly, careful not to allow the servants to hear. “My understanding is that the fatalities occur when the infection spreads into the lungs.”  


“But...Emma is so strong and so young,” Killian insisted, his fist squeezing tightly to stifle his anger.   


“This strain seems to claim everyone, indiscriminately,” Whale sighed heavily. “You’d do best to get some rest yourself, sir. I’ll remain awake with her Ladyship.”  


“Not a chance,” Killian growled, “I’m not leaving her. What if she…if it...” he found himself unable to finish the thought of what could be next for them.  


\--  


“It’s what?” Regina blinked slowly and glanced over to Robin. She looked back to Killian and swallowed hard. “I thought perhaps…”  


The Lord shook his head. “You thought wrong, it seems. You’re welcome to visit her,” he gestured toward the bedroom, “although the doctor advises a mask. It’s highly contagious.”  


“You won’t be going in there, Regina,” Robin warned, stepping up.  


Killian blinked a few times at his old friend, “I’d be careful speaking to her Ladyship’s aunt with such a tone, mate.”  


Regina wrung her hands as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other, “He’s right, I shouldn’t go in. My condition puts far too much at risk.”  


“Condition?”  


Robin and Regina exchanged glances. “We were going to discuss things with you upon your return, but it seems...it seems as if things may be a bit...different, now.”  


“Discuss what, Regina?” Killian demanded, his posture stiffening.  


Robin cleared his throat and shuffled his feet uncomfortably.   


Watching the pair, Killian realized his suspicions had been correct. “So she’s...the woman we discussed?” his Lordship asked, glancing at Regina, “And you’ve managed to get her into a delicate condition?”  


“It’s not as bad as it sounds, really,” Regina sighed, rolling her eyes.  


“And I’ve made an honest woman of her,” Robin insisted. He slid his arm around Regina’s back. “The vicar did me a favor.” For the first time, Killian noticed matching gold bands upon the pair’s left hands.  


He took in a deep breath before running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t think I have the mental capacity to handle this, right now.”  


“Don’t. There’s nothing to handle. Just worry about Emma,” Regina frowned. She reached out and pulled her niece’s husband into a tight hug. “Let her know we love her.”  


Turning, Killian re-entered Emma’s bedroom and moved a chair up next to her bed. He reached forth to brush her hair back from her forehead, leaning down to nuzzle against her burning-hot skin.  


Emma’s eyes fluttered open, and she seemed to focus upon his face with some difficulty. “Killian,” she muttered, hand grasping for anything.  


“I’m here, love,” Killian urged his wife, taking a bowl from the side table, “drink.”  


Emma pulled herself up slightly and took a sip of the warm concoction. She slunk back down after swallowing, closing her eyes. “Tastes lovely,” she muttered.  


“Warm milk and cinnamon,” Killian smiled slightly, “my mother used to make it for me when I was sick as a lad. I had Mrs. Lucas make some for you.”  


As she relaxed again, he slid his cool hand into her overly-warm grasp. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”  


“Killian, I want…” she took in a shaky breath and seemed to be trying to suppress the urge to cough. “I want you to remarry when I’m gone.”  


Tears pricked at Killian’s eyes and he shook his head angrily. “I don’t know where you think you’re going, but I’m not going to allow you to leave me.”  


“I’m sorry I could not give you a son,” she continued, “but perhaps a new wife will be more fertile.”  


He closed his eyes tightly and pulled her hand to his mask, kissing her knuckles through the cotton. “Emma I love you so much,” he sobbed. “Please don’t leave me.”  


“I love you,” tears fell from Emma’s eyes and she took as deep a breath as she was able before coughing hard. She turned into her pillowcase, leaving a pinkish-red blood stain behind where her lips had been.   


Doctor Whale entered the room, securing his own mask upon his face. He grasped a handkerchief and dabbed at Emma’s mouth with it, collecting the red spittle. Although his mouth was hidden, his eyes betrayed his reaction as he frowned and placed two fingers against her exposed neck. With a heavy sigh, he glanced to Killian. “I suspect...it won’t be long, sir.”  


His breath catching in his chest, Killian turned to his ailing wife and shook his head quickly. “No,” he pleaded, “please don’t….don’t take her.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against the back of her hand as the doctor exited once again to check his charts.  


\--  


Honoring the promise to remain awake at her side, Killian had dozed off in a chair at some point during the night. He stirred slightly as morning light came through the window. With a start, he jumped from his seat and moved to Emma’s side. Her skin was more pale than the evening before. With a shaky hand, he reached out to touch her, fearing that he would feel only a chilled corpse. He was, however, surprised to find her nearly the same temperature as his own body.  


“Good morning, your Lordship!” Doctor Whale grinned behind his mask as he entered the room. “Emma has made surprising leaps and bounds through the night. Her fever has broken.”  


“Broken?” Killian shook his head, sitting up a little more. He blinked a couple of times. “She is...she is getting better?”  


Whale nodded and moved to clap the younger man on the shoulder. “Indeed she is, sir. She will come out of this. I suspect your presence has aided her convalescence.”   


Killian leaned over his wife. He pulled down his mask just enough to place a kiss upon her forehead. With a smile, he remained close and allowed her to sleep, continuing his conversation with the doctor solely in hushed tones, “No, it’s her strength,” Killian insisted.  



	13. Chapter 13

Her body still quite frail and exhausted, Emma remained sequestered to her bedroom for a few days after her fever had broken. Doctor Whale remained close to monitor the patient’s progress. Killian was in and out of her rooms, finding himself busy with the business of running the estate, along with other matters.  


Christmastime was quickly approaching, and Killian wanted to be sure the festivities around the house were absolutely perfect for his first Yuletide celebration with Emma. Not only had he arranged for the perfect Christmas gift for her, but after the new year, he would present her with another fantastic surprise.  


Doctor Whale had given the staff and residents the ‘all clear’ to visit Emma at her bedside. A number of servants had dropped by to provide well-wishes to their mistress. Together, they had made sure to provide the very best care for both the Lordship and his wife during their time of need.  


A week had passed since their return from America, and Emma had just begun to eat again. Killian had ordered up some toast and soup for her, hoping she could stomach it and make her way toward health once more. He fetched the tray himself and took it up to her bedroom.   


“Are you a footman, now?” Emma asked with a smirk as her husband entered the room. He grinned at her and gave a wink.  


“If that is what my lady wishes,” he teased, placing the tray over her lap. He adjusted the pillows behind her head and sat down beside her, lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. “How are you, my love?”  


“Tired,” Emma frowned. She reached up and touched his cheek softly. His whiskers were longer than usual. A sign he was taking less care of himself than others. “I shall be back on my feet soon, I promise.”  


“Take your time,” he warned. He poured a cup of tea for her and fixed it just the way she liked. Emma marveled at the way he maneuvered the teapot and cup with just the one hand. “I’ve got it all managed. Just be well in time for Christmas. Or else I’ll be rolling you to the tree.”  


Emma laughed and shook her head. “I doubt I’ll be a weakling then. I’ve got to arrange your gift soon, though.”  


“You’re all the gift I need,” he winked at her and rubbed her leg through the bedclothes. “Would you prefer to eat in peace?”  


“I am at peace,” she insisted and lifted a bit of toast. “How goes the estate? What’s new?”  


Killian described the varying goings-on at Kentledge, the matters of the tenants and such. The Phillipses were now raising pigs and promised a side of bacon to the household at Christmas. Mr. and Mrs. Grant had a successful honey harvest over the fall and made a steady profit at the fair in Bakewell. He helped her clear her tray once the toast and soup were consumed, and subsequently climbed into bed beside her. Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulled her close and kissed her temple.  


“Thank you,” he muttered against her hair.  


“For what?” Emma asked, drowsiness tugging at her eyelids.  


“Staying,” he whispered, “I thought I would lose you.”  


“Never,” she replied as she drifted off to sleep in his arms.  


\--  


Christmas morning was more cheerful at Kentledge than it had been in ages. The banisters were trimmed with boughs of pine and holly, with twisting silver and gold garlands wrapped along the newell posts. Candles glowed atop mantle pieces and sprigs of festive greenery topped each table. Emma and Killian made sure to invite all of the servants into the main hall for warm mulled wine and pastries as the Lord and Lady passed out gifts. The tree was enormous, and covered in the most sweet-smelling of gingerbread ornaments, shining tinsel, and sweeping ribbons.  


“My understanding,” Emma said with a bright smile, her healthy color having returned to her in the past days, “is that we have a wedding coming up very soon.”  


The servants turned to look at a very embarassed David and Mary-Margaret.   


“That is true, your Ladyship,” David muttered, sliding his arm around his fiancee’s back. She had only recently agreed to marry him, and the wedding planning had been slow-going. “Although Mary-Margaret and I are not quite sure when we will manage it.”  


“New Year’s Eve! Here, in the hall. I insist,” she beamed and handed over a package for Mary-Margaret. “I hope that is okay with you.”  


Blushing deeply, Mary-Margaret nodded and grinned. “Thank you so much, your Ladyship. And your Lordship.”  


“You’re very welcome,” Killian nodded, rubbing Emma’s arm. They watched as the young woman opened her gift and gasped. It was a package of a few yards of beautiful cream-colored lace and satin, the kind which the maid would never have been able to afford, herself. Tears formed in Mary-Margaret’s eyes and she nodded to the two of them, unable to form words of thanks.  


Turning, Emma smiled and grasped another package from beneath the tree. She placed it in the hands of Robin. “And for my aunt and her husband, whom I suppose I should be referring to as my ‘Uncle’,” Emma laughed.  


Robin grinned and accepted the gift, opening the brown paper and strings. He chuckled as he pulled out a very small flat cap, one similar to the kind he wore whilst performing his duties as chauffeur. “Perfect,” Robin grinned and moved forward to hug Emma and Killian. “The little lad, if that is indeed what we have, will look charming in this.”  


Regina grinned and cleared her throat. She held out a small box for Emma. “Now, I had to collaborate with your husband on this one, as it goes with his gift.”  


Emma took the box and raised an eyebrow slowly at her husband. Killian gave her a wink and remained close, nudging her to open the package. She untied the string around the box and opened it, staring, puzzled at the contents.  


“Any guesses?” Killian asked.   


Emma ran her fingers over the strap of leather, which had riveted to it a small, blank brass plaque. One end of the strap had a loop and the other had small holes. She shook her head, “I give up!” she laughed.  


With a raise of both eyebrows and a nod to Nolan, Killian grinned. He watched as David moved to the door at the top of the undercroft staircase and opened it, releasing a small blurry mess of brown and white fur. It bounded into the room.  


Emma gasped loudly and dropped to her knees as the small puppy hurried onto her lap. It licked at her face and Emma laughed with delight.   


“Oh Killian!” She cuddled the pup close and grinned up at her husband. “How perfect!”  


“She’s all yours,” Killian beamed. “Lady Violet Rochester’s prized Cocker had pups. So I bought one for you.”  


“She’s beautiful,” Emma purred, stroking the small dog in her lap. “What shall we call her?”  


“Up to you!”   


The group in the hall all grinned and cooed in response to the puppy, pleased to see her Ladyship so happy, despite all of the misfortune the couple had faced.  


“Lady,” Emma smiled scratching behind the puppy’s ear, “I think I shall call you Lady.”  


“Perfect,” Killian grinned and leaned down to rub at the pup’s head. “Thank you, everyone, for your kind gifts.”  


“Wait!” Emma protested, reaching for one small box left under the tree. She handed it to her husband with a sparkle in her eye. The squirming dog settled into a comfortable place on Emma’s lap. “You forgot yours.”  


Taking the box, Killian shook his head. “I told you I didn’t need a thing, love.”  


Emma merely winked as he untied the box and opened it. His jaw dropped slightly as he examined the contents. The hall was silent, waiting patiently for a more distinct reaction from the master of the house.  


“Is it something you shan’t share in the presence of ladies, mate?” Robin teased, and Regina elbowed him in the side.  


Reaching into the box, Killian pulled out a shining gold pocket watch. He opened the intricately-carved case and looked over the mechanisms inside. The inside of the case, he noted, was inscribed.  


_For Killian, my One True Love - From Your Emma_  


Tears welled in his eyes and he bent to give her a tender kiss. The crowd around them applauded the beauty of the Christmas scene before them.  


\--  


“I-I can’t let you fuss over me like this, your Ladyship,” Mary-Margaret stammered, blushing as Emma and Ruby tucked flowers into her dark hair. Emma grinned.  


“Today, I am Emma,” she gave Mary-Margaret a hug, “a friend.”  


“Thank you,” Mary-Margaret felt tears welling up in her eyes and laughed, shaking them away. “I can’t cry! It hasn’t even started yet!” Ruby laughed and handed over an embroidered handkerchief.  


Upstairs, Killian was helping David sort out the last-minute details of the ceremony as the vicar arrived. Killian greeted the man with a broad grin and introduced him to David.  


“You must mean a great deal to his Lordship to be receiving such treatment, lad,” the older man chuckled, adjusting his robes.  


“He’s the one who means a lot to me,” David muttered, fussing with the rose that was supposed to be balanced in the buttonhole on his lapel. “He saved my bacon in the war.”  


“Here,” Killian offered, reaching up with a pin in his good hand. He carefully tucked it into the lapel of David’s jacket. “And it was nothing, really. You deserve a nice day like this, David. Honestly.”  


“Thank you,” David replied. He leaned in and hugged Killian tightly, and the two men smiled at one another. From the door to the undercroft stairs, there was a clearing of a throat. Emma raised an eyebrow at Killian and gestured toward the lounging handful of more musically inclined staff members.  


“Are they ready?” She asked.  


The kitchen staff hurried past Emma and settled into their seats as Killian gave direction to the small orchestra of a guitar, a piano, and a shady-looking violin. He nodded once they understood and moved to David’s side. The vicar took his place at the front of the room, just before the large fireplace.  


The music which came from the three household members was a bit more rough than the string quartet Emma and Killian featured at most of their parties, but it was recognizable. Emma had made an attempt to book the more formal musicians, but Mary-Margaret had insisted their friends be allowed to showcase their talents.  


Killian could feel the tension coming off of David as he stood beside him, both of the men wearing their military dress. Emma opened the undercroft stairway door and offered a hand to the bride, who she led up onto the floor of the hall. David took in an audible breath and seemed to hold it as Mary-Margaret approached.  


The young bride stood at the end of the aisle, blushing a bright pink. She wore a mid-shin length gown made of the fabric she had received as a Christmas gift from her Ladyship. Her veil trailed down her back, brushing the floor. She stepped slowly toward David, her soft green eyes focused upon him. In the nearly two years since they had started working at Kentledge, their romance had bloomed. Mary-Margaret found herself entranced by his humor and gallantry. He was old-fashioned in that he opened doors for her and made sure she was comfortable in most places they visited. At the same time, he understood her need for being an independent woman, despite her status. Together, they had worked on cleaning up and furnishing the small cottage on the back of the property, where Mary-Margaret hoped they would soon start a family.  


As she reached her betrothed, Mary-Margaret gave a confident smile up at him.  


“Dearly beloved,” the vicar began.  


\--  


The dancing was lively and the crowd was joyous as the Kentledge staff and family joined together to celebrate not only the new year, but the marriage of two of their own. Killian had gifted the happy couple with a stay in one of the guest rooms for the night, which was far more accommodating than the small cottage to which they would retire on other evenings.  


Just before midnight, Emma slid her hand into Killian’s and leaned over to whisper into his ear. “Could we go to bed early, do you think? I’d rather we didn’t stay up much later.” Her body language was somewhat tense as she spoke, and Killian was quick to understand.  


“Of course, love,” he nodded and kissed her temple before standing. “We’re off, but you all stay and enjoy until you’ve had your fill of whiskey and canapes.”   


The staff gave a wave goodnight and continued their celebrations. Killian was fully aware that the final countdown before the new year was something Emma would rather celebrate in private, given her past with the time. He walked with her toward her bedroom and stepped inside, closing the door behind him. Lady had already retired an hour earlier, and could be found snoozing in the small, cushioned bed Killian had ordered from London.   


“Are you alright, love?” He asked quietly, shrugging away the jacket of his military uniform. He had unbuttoned it some hours earlier as the temperature in the hall rose to uncomfortable levels with all of the revelry.  


Emma nodded and removed her earrings and necklace, tucking them into her jewelry box. Killian stepped up behind her, caressing her shoulder with his good hand. He smiled at her in the mirror and gave her a soft kiss on the side of the neck.  


“Must you go in the morning?” she asked, turning to face her husband, sliding her arms around his neck. “Or can’t I go with you?”  


“I promise it’ll be worth the wait,” Killian grinned. “I shall return to you with a surprise. And I’ve merely got some boring estate business.”  


“In London?” she eyed him suspiciously. Emma had no reason to suspect her husband was up to anything out of the ordinary, but London was hardly the place to handle business for a country estate.  


“Attorneys,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I’m meeting with Mr. Hopper for a few hours to discuss some changes to the entail.”  


Emma gave a slight nod. She swallowed hard, the idea obviously bothering her. “You mean you’re changing things so...should we not have a child...ever…”  


“Shh,” he reached up to brush her hair back over her ears. “I’m just making sure you’re taken care of, should I pass.”  


“You’re not allowed to go before me,” she gave him a slight pout. With a laugh, he kissed her tenderly and bent to scoop her into his arms.  


Emma squealed as she was carried toward the bed. She could hear a faint countdown amongst the servants downstairs as Killian laid her down upon the soft duvet.  


With a soft sigh, she laid back and smiled at Killian, who settled onto his side next to her. He slid a hand over her belly and whispered. “This year, my love. This year.”  


Emma nodded and gave a tender, hopeful smile. “Happy New Year, Killian.”  


“Happy New Year,” he gave her a slow kiss and held her close.  


\--  


Christmas decor came down in the days after Killian had departed for London. Emma busied herself with helping design a nursery for Regina and Robin. She sat alone in the study, a handful of fabric swatches laid out before her. The mild weather was causing an absolute downpour as of late, and not a thing could be done out of doors. Picking up a pale yellow one, she rubbed it between her fingers and smiled, knowing it to be just soft enough for an infant. The door bell rang and Emma looked up, moving toward the window. Lady gave a small bark from her position near the fireplace, but Emma shushed her quickly. She watched as a figure entered through the front door, obviously ducking out of the rain. A taxi sat idling outside as voices sounded from the entryway. Stepping out of the study, Emma found herself face-to-face with Mr. Gold, who seemed irritated.  


The old man took in a deep breath and sighed, then gestured to the entry, “A Mrs. Bell has come to meet with his Lordship but is not inclined to take her leave, even after I told her he is not available.”  


“Mrs. Bell?” Emma’s eyebrow crooked and she stepped into the entry, her hands folded in front of her. Before her stood a petite young woman in a hooded cloak. She bounced slightly where she stood, a suitcase at her feet.   


“May I help you?” Emma asked after a moment. There was a clacking of nails upon the wooden floor as Lady cautiously approached and eyed the visitor.   


Glancing up, the woman eyed her, then reached up to push back her hood. She was a pretty thing, with her pale blonde hair tied up behind her head. “You must be Emma.”  


Gold scoffed at the informality of the woman’s words, but Emma held up a hand to quiet him. “Yes, I am Emma. Lord Matlock is my husband. Can I assist you?”  


“I…” her gaze shifted to Gold, then back to Emma herself, “I had nowhere else to go, and I thought maybe, Killian being rich and all, he might have somewhere for us to stay, so…”  


“This is not a boarding house, Madame!” Gold tutted.   


“Please, Mr. Gold, can you busy yourself with something else at the moment? I will work things out with Mrs. Bell,” turning, Emma watched the young woman remove her cloak. Only then did she notice the small child in her arms, swaddled.  


“Oh,” Emma swallowed hard, “on second thought, Mr. Gold, please fetch some tea for myself and Mrs. Bell. We will be in the study.”  


“Thank you,” the woman sighed heavily and followed, leaving her suitcase in the hall.  


Once they were settled into the study, Emma grabbed a blanket and draped it over the young woman’s shoulders. Mrs. Bell carefully tucked it around the child in her arms as well.  


“I’m sorry,” Emma finally said as she sat down, “I can’t recall a Mrs. Bell that Killian may have spoken of. I think that’s why we’re a little lost without him here.”  


“We met in the war,” she smiled slightly at Emma. “I was a nurse training at Scapa Flow.”  


Emma’s eyes widened with recognition. “OH! You’re Tink!”  


The baby stirred slightly and Emma clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m ever so sorry,” she whispered, having forgotten herself.  


“Yes, I’m Tink,” she chuckled softly and rocked the baby in her arms. “And this is Ian.”  


“He’s precious,” Emma smiled, getting just a glance at the puffy little cheeks over the blanket. “How old is he?”  


“Just nine months old,” Tink smiled and removed his little hat, allowing the warm, crackling fire to dry them both out. Emma was surprised to see a nearly full tuft of dark brown hair atop the infant’s head.  


“Must take after his father,” Emma poured a cup of tea after an irritated Mr. Gold left the tray and exited the room. “All of that dark hair.”  


“Yes,” Tink answered, remaining somewhat silent after she said it. “Lady Jones, I...I came to ask if I might stay here until my family can help me.”  


“Of course! I’m sure Killian will be delighted to see you. And to meet little Ian,” she poured herself a cup of tea and grinned. “We’ll be sure to set up a room for the two of you this evening. I don’t know if there’s a bassinet, but we’ll find something to make do.” “You’ve no little ones of your own, then?” Tink asked, sipping her tea.  


“We have not yet been so lucky,” Emma swallowed hard and glanced down at her cup.   


Tink was quiet for a moment, then put the tea down. “Thank you, Lady Jones, for your generosity. If it’s alright with you, I believe Ian and I should get some rest. We’ve traveled quite a long way.”  


“Oh! Yes, you poor thing. Please,” Emma stood and moved to ring the bell. Once Gold appeared, Emma explained the situation. The older man seemed to accept the news of a guest with a bit more ease.   


The child woke while Emma explained and she looked over with a smile at the little boy. He had dark, expressive brows. His eyes were pale blue against his mother’s dark cloak.   


“This way, madame,” Gold gestured toward the main staircase. “I will have a footman take your things upstairs in a moment.”  


“Goodnight, Mrs. Bell,” Emma smiled, “I hope you sleep soundly. And you, Ian.”  


The infant clutched his mother’s shoulder, staring at Emma as they left the room. For a moment, Emma watched the boy, then glanced toward the fire, lost in thought.  



	14. Chapter 14

Emma’s nightgown trailed the floor as she paced, wringing her hands as her mind raced. Perhaps she could not blame him. The man, was, after all, on his way to a war he may well have not survived. Or perhaps it was a moment of complete drunkenness in which he had lost all of his inhibitions. He had only been married for a matter of weeks at that point, and it was not like the marriage itself had been consummated. Turning on her bare feet, she shook her head. Her mind was a complete torrid of emotions. One moment she understood him if the child was indeed his, and in the next she wanted to rip his heart out and stamp upon it for betraying her.  


Pausing near the window, Emma stopped to watch the sun rising through the frosty panes. She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath. A knock at the door told her it was exactly seven o’clock.   


“Come in,” she muttered over her shoulder.  


Ruby stepped into the room and warmed her hands by the fire for a moment before setting about to lying her mistress’s things out for the day.  


“Did you sleep well, your Ladyship?” Ruby asked, moving to the wardrobe.  


“I didn’t sleep at all,” Emma sighed, turning to face her oldest friend. She took a seat on the chaise longue near the bed. “I can’t help but think about this...this woman who has come to stay.”  


Ruby paused and glanced toward the door. “Mrs. Bell?” She looked back to Emma, raising an eyebrow. “Do you not like her? I found her to be pleasant.”  


“Well, yes, she is pleasant, I suppose,” Emma conceded, twisting her silk nightgown around her finger, “but the child…”  


“I thought you liked children,” Ruby said, a little more quietly.   


Looking up at Ruby, Emma cocked her head and slowly raised her own eyebrow at the young woman before her. Ruby feigned a puzzled look for a mere moment, then let her shoulders slump in defeat. “I’m sure...things are not quite as they seem, Emma.”  


“Really?” Pushing off of the chaise, Emma drew in a deep breath and walked toward the fire. “I should know better, honestly. I spent my entire life growing up around men who kept mistresses of all sorts. It’s what rich men do.”  


“That does not mean his Lordship would do such a thing,” Ruby sighed.   


“I should not be surprised if he did,” shrugging, Emma moved toward Ruby and tugged off her robe. “Is Mrs. Bell having breakfast in her room?”  


“Yes,” Ruby replied, taking the robe from her mistress. “Shall I fetch you a tray this morning, or will you be having breakfast in the dining room?”  


“In the dining room, please,” Emma licked her lips slowly. She turned to look into a mirror, pushing at her eyebrow, lifting it slightly. Although she was a mere twenty years old, it seemed she was aging every day. “I think I should put in a call to Mr. Hopper today.”  


“Mr. Hopper?” Ruby inquired, holding out a navy day dress. “The attorney? Isn’t his Lordship visiting with him, in London?”  


Nodding, Emma slipped out of her nightgown and held out her arms for Ruby to dress her. “I need to find out how much of my father’s money will be left in entail to this...illegitimate boy.”  


Ruby sighed, “You do not even know for certain that he is the son of his Lordship.”  


“Why else would he be headed to London to speak with the attorney? And without my company?”   


Going silent, the servant girl dressed Emma, working the buttons on the back of the gown.   


\--  


It was nearly late afternoon before Emma worked up enough courage to make the phone call. She spoke pointedly with the operator before being connected to Mr. Hopper’s London office.  


“Lady Jones! What a pleasant surprise! I just met with your husband yesterday,” the man spoke through the line. Emma could hear the broad smile in the tone of his voice.  


“Yes, I know,” she pursed her lips slightly, “could you please relay some of the details of your meeting to me?”  


A long pause came over the line and Emma heard the shifting of papers. “Well, could you not simply speak with your husband upon his return? He should be on the train to Derbyshire now.”  


“I would rather hear it from you, if you please,” she replied, holding her head high as she gazed out over the rose gardens adjacent to the study.   


“W-well,” the man began, stuttering a bit over his words, “Lord Jones and I simply discussed the matter of entail on the estate.”  


“And?” Emma’s eyebrow raised slowly with impatience, “did he leave instructions regarding his heir?”  


“Lady Jones, it was my understanding that there is not yet an heir to the estate,” Mr. Hopper said with a heavy breath. “But we discussed the terms of the entail. Lord Jones wanted to be sure any of his children would have claim to the property, title, and fortune. That..that is to say, not just his --”  


“Thank you, Mr. Hopper,” Emma interrupted, a fire burning in her veins. She clenched her jaw for a moment. “I’ll speak with Lord Jones upon his return to Kentledge. I appreciate your time.”  


Hanging up the phone, Emma pushed it across the desk and huffed loudly before the tears came.  


\--  


For the remainder of the day, Emma kept herself sequestered to her room. She asked the servants to make apologies to Mrs. Bell for her absence. When dinnertime came around, there was a knock at her bedroom door.  


“No, thank you, Ruby,” Emma muttered against her duvet. “I’ve no appetite tonight.”  


“Are you ill?” Came a voice from the doorway. Emma looked up to see her husband, still damp from a sudden downpour, with a box in his hands. He gave a soft smile. “I’d hope not. You’ve just gotten better.”  


Taking a deep breath, Emma carefully sat up and rubbed at her reddened eyes.  


Frowning, Killian took a step forward, but Emma raised a hand to stop him.  


“Mrs. Bell and her son are here,” she said calmly.  


Killian’s head tilted slightly. He thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I’m sorry...who?”  


“Tink,” Emma elaborated, “Surely you remember Tink from your time in Scotland before the war.”  


“Tink is here?” He smiled slightly and moved to place the box down on her vanity. “How nice of her to come. Did she say why?”  


“She brought your son with her,” Emma said, her voice emotionless. Her usually warm green eyes had gone completely cold.  


Lady trotted into the room and sat at Killian’s feet, glancing up at him curiously. She looked to Emma, then turned to slink into her bed. It was as if the pup could feel the tension in the room.  


“Son?” Killian replied after a long moment. “You mean her son.”  


“I meant what I said,” Emma replied, standing from the bed. “She brought a nine month old baby. Who looks exactly like you. And the timing is...too perfect...I thought you just danced with her.”  


His shoulders dropping slightly, Killian shook his head. “Emma, look,” he swallowed hard, “I will admit that I did have a few drinks that night, and that when I took her home…”  


“You lied to me!” The voice that rose from her was one she had rarely heard, herself. It was full of fury and anguish. “Did our vows mean nothing to you? Tell me, this instant, what I don’t know.”  


His neck reddened as his voice rose, “I was only going to admit that she kissed me. Just a kiss. That was it! She kissed me and I bid her goodnight. There is no actual way that child is my son!”  


Going quiet, Emma watched him. “Why didn’t you tell me about the kiss?” She asked softly. “I’m less inclined to believe anything else.”  


“Because I didn’t initiate it and she pleaded with me not to tell her husband,” he sighed, “so I thought I shouldn’t tell anyone at all.”  


“Her husband? Do you...do you know him?” She sat on the edge of the bed. Lady scurried from her cushion and jumped up onto Emma’s lap.  


“Aye,” Killian nodded, “he was a field physician.”  


“Was?”  


Shifting his weight, he gave a slight shrug and tucked his good hand into his pocket. “I heard of his death a few weeks ago in some of the dispatches I still receive. Ian Bell was his name.”  


Emma’s heart clenched in her chest and she closed her eyes. “I wager he looked something like you. Dark hair, light eyes…?”  


He gave a small chuckle, “Indeed. I was mistaken for the man a few times at the front. Had to convince them I knew nothing about how to fix a bullet wound.”  


Her hand moved to her mouth and she sobbed quietly against it. “Oh I’m so sorry,” she whispered.  


“You’ve gone all this week thinking I had a child outside of our marriage?” He stepped closer and knelt at the foot of the bed, glancing up at her. “The only child I ever want to have is with you.”  


“Well, she...she only came last night. I called...I called Mr. Hopper this morning and he said you altered the entail to make sure all of your children were included and…”  


“I did that, should we have only daughters,” he gave a crooked smile, “it’s been so hard for us to conceive that I thought...we should have a plan, should the only child we ever have be a girl.”  


Emma picked up the small puppy and moved her aside, slipping down to the floor in front of her husband. “I am so sorry,” she whispered, leaning to slide her hands onto the scruff of his cheeks, “I’m sorry, Killian I…”  


“It’s quite alright, love,” he laughed, pulling her close. “I imagine you, being stuck here, had all kinds of thoughts about what goes on during the war. And then a woman shows up on your doorstep…”  


“And you’d insisted on going to London without me!” She ran her fingers into his still-damp hair. “I just thought the worst.”  


“Well I couldn’t very well fetch your surprise with you there,” he smirked, rubbing her back. “Would you like it now?”  


She laughed slightly and rubbed at her tear-swollen eyes, “I don’t think I deserve a surprise.”  


“You do, love,” he stood and moved to the vanity to fetch the box. He stepped back to her and knelt, holding it out. It was a black-lacquered box, and it seemed somewhat worn.  


Emma took the box from him and raised an eyebrow. “Heavy,” she eyed him carefully and placed the box in her lap before opening it.  


Killian watched with anticipation, kneeling back down beside her. “What do you think?”  


Shaking her head, Emma glanced up at him. “How…? Wherever did you…?”  


“Mr. Hopper and I had some other business as well, love,” he smirked and reached into the box. He pulled out a diamond-encrusted laurel branch tiara. “I had him track down and buy back the tiara which goes with your title.”  


“This is your family’s?” She pointed at the heavy bit of finery. “May I?”  


“Of course,” Killian stood and held out a hand to assist her in standing. He led her to the full-length mirror near the windows before settling the tiara into her hair.  


Emma gasped at the beauty of it and smoothed her messy hair back just a bit, admiring the piece. “It’s gorgeous.”  


“Fitting then,” Killian smirked. He leaned over and placed a kiss where her neck met her shoulder. “Now you are truly Lady Emma Jones, Marchioness of Matlock.”  


Turning to face him, Emma pressed a kiss against his lips and combed her fingers through his hair. “It’s absolutely wonderful, Killian. Thank you, my love. Again, I’m so sorry…”  


“I hope you did not scold Mrs. Bell…” he teased, pulling her against him in a tight embrace.  


Cringing slightly, Emma shrugged. “She may believe me to be quite unfriendly, but I by no means scolded her. I simply ignored her presence for most of the day. I thought...should I see that baby once more…”  


“Perhaps we should find out why she is actually here?”  


\--  


“After Ian’s death,” Tink sniffed, wringing a handkerchief between her hands, “we could hardly afford to live in the house any more. Once the landlord came for us, I packed up what I could and I came here.”  


“You are very welcome to stay,” Emma insisted, holding the infant Ian in her arms. She looked at the young boy, who was busy trying to reach for her earrings. “We have plenty of room here, and I wouldn’t mind having a little one around.”  


“Absolutely,” Killian nodded, giving his friend a sad smile, “I’m so sorry for your loss. Please, stay as long as you need to.”  


Tink gave a soft smile and nodded. “I should not be too long,” she sighed, “but thank you. My family is coming from New Zealand. They tried to send me money but I suppose it must have been stolen in transit. The wires are not quite what they should be, either…”  


“It’s fine,” Killian reassured her, “We have everything you could need, here.”  


“Despite your loss,” Emma chimed in, tickling the infant’s side. The baby gave a small giggle. “You are so lucky to have this little man. He’s positively precious!”  


Tink smiled at her son, who cooed softly and nuzzled against Emma’s chest. “He seems fond of you as well. Did you say you were...having difficulty conceiving?”   


Killian cleared his throat and stood from the sofa. “Perhaps I should get ready for bed...leave you ladies to your discussion.” His neck and ears had gone bright red.  


“Sorry,” Tink laughed, “You know I used to be a midwife. I’m hardly ashamed by that sort of talk.”  


“I’ll be up soon, darling,” Emma gave her embarrassed husband a kiss on the cheek.  


Taking a seat across from the young woman, Emma handed the baby back to her. “We’ve been trying for over a year, and we have had no luck whatsoever.”  


“Not even a miscarriage?” Tink asked, raising an eyebrow. “Seems odd. If you’re open to it, I could do an examination to see if there’s anything awry. But only if you’re comfortable. I would just very much like to help, if I can.”  


“I’ll give it a thought,” Emma nodded and smiled. “Can I get you anything before I go upstairs? Please, make yourself at home. And I’m terribly sorry I did not receive you properly before.”  


“No worries at all,” Tink smiled and looked to Ian. “I was really too exhausted to notice. Goodnight, Lady Jones.”  


“Please, call me Emma.”  



	15. Chapter 15

Putting the sheet back down over Emma’s knees, Tink moved to the basin nearby and washed her hands carefully. She turned back to Emma, who had a raised eyebrow as she sat up and waited somewhat impatiently to hear any news.  


“I think,” Tink said after a moment, “that there may be an issue. I felt tissue that I do not believe should be there. Have you experienced an accident of some kind? I know Killian mentioned you were sick before, but I doubt…”  


Taking in a breath, Emma nodded slightly. “I was attacked before I came here.”  


The petite blonde nodded with understanding as she toweled off her hands and moved to sit beside Emma. “Then it’s likely scar tissue, covering the opening to your uterus, which is called the cervix. I can’t say if it’s from the attack or the repair work, but it may be able to be removed.”  


“Removed?” Emma looked hopeful and bit down on her lip. “Is that something you can do?”  


Shaking her head, Tink sighed. “Unfortunately, I am no surgeon. But I do know an obstetrician in London who may be able to help you.”  


“That would we wonderful,” the Marchioness beamed and reached for Tink’s hands. “I cannot thank you enough for having a look. I want so badly to give Killian an heir to his title and estate.”  


“I cannot guarantee he can, though. Please, I hope you know there’s a chance of failure. But I will make a call for you and get an appointment set.”  


“You are a true blessing to us,” Emma smiled, fighting away a few tears of expectant happiness.  


\--  


London continued to be full of life, even as the war raged on. Emma held tightly to her husband’s hand as they hurried across Harley street, dodging the ever-growing number of automobiles. Killian reached up and pressed the doorbell with his prosthetic.  


“I’m sorry for this mess,” Emma sighed with a frown as she waited for the door to be opened.  


Killian blinked and looked down at her. “None of this is your fault, Emma. And I never want you to blame yourself.” Releasing her hand, he placed his fingers under her chin and tipped it up toward him. “Do you understand me? I love you. I will not let you blame yourself for this.”  


Nodding, Emma smiled and gave him a quick kiss before the door opened, a secretary leading them inside.  


The obstetrician, Doctor Jefferson, was calm and understanding of the couple’s plight. He listened to the details of their story with interest, making a few notes in his binder.  


“I’m familiar with this type of case, your Ladyship,” he said, standing from behind his desk. “I believe we may be able to give a restorative procedure a shot, if you’re willing to try it.”  


“Anything,” Emma smiled and squeezed Killian’s hand where they sat. “Is it a difficult procedure?”  


“That depends on how severe I find the condition to be,” he sat on the edge of the desk, facing the couple, and tented his hands. “If I find a minimal amount of tissue which may be removed, I will do so in a pelvic examination. However, scar tissue will often times regrow and again restrict access to the uterus. Therefore, even if we proceed with this procedure, it may be unsuccessful.”  


“And if the amount of tissue is more?” Killian asked softly, wanting to understand as much as possible about his wife’s condition. “Will you be unable to help?”  


“If there is more, it may require a more serious procedure. It would take opening up her abdomen and removing as much as possible without disturbing the actual cervix. Without a cervix, you see, you would be unable to carry a child successfully to term,” the doctor explained further, frowning. “So we will see what can be done. According to the information I received from Mrs. Bell, your midwife, it seems there may be a sizeable amount of scar tissue there. I would assume it is a result of the attack you endured a few years ago.”  


Emma glanced over to see Killian’s jaw clenching tightly. She rubbed the back of his hand with her thumb in an attempt to calm him. “When will we be able to conduct the examination?”  


“I have a few hours tomorrow morning,” Doctor Jefferson replied, to Emma’s relief. She wanted nothing more than to fix the situation and return home. Having no idea of what laid before them was making her quite anxious, to be sure.  


“And how soon...after the procedure,” Killian awkwardly attempted to ask. The doctor gave a small chuckle and cleared his throat.  


“Lord Jones, I believe you may resume regular activity as soon as six weeks following the procedure. That will allow ample time for Lady Jones to heal. I would also recommend abstaining from activity prior to tomorrow morning’s procedure.”   


“Thank you,” Killian responded, blushing head to toe, but somewhat relieved that he did not have to go into further detail on the question.  


\--  


In the weeks following the procedure on Harley Street, Emma was happy to convalesce between London and Brighton. Spring was approaching, and the fresh air and sunshine were very calming for the Marchioness.   


“I’ve had a letter from Tink,” Killian said over breakfast one day, putting down his cup of tea. “She’ll be returning to New Zealand shortly. Her mother, Mrs. Green, has made passage to collect her and Ian.”  


“What a journey,” Emma said, shaking her head, “I do not envy it. Let’s make sure we send a gift of thanks for what she’s done for us.”  


“Yes, of course,” Killian responded with a smile. He reached for Emma’s hand, squeezing it softly. “How do you feel today?”  


“I’m well,” Emma replied with a blush. “I’m terribly sorry this recovery time is taking so --”  


“Nope,” Killian interrupted, shaking his head, “you don’t get to apologize, as you’ve done nothing. As much as I long to touch you again, your health is more important. Believe me, Emma, it’s not a terrible wait.”  


“You’re too good to me,” Emma grinned and leaned over to give him a soft kiss.   


Returning the gesture, he leaned his forehead against hers and smiled. “With any luck, I’ll be waiting a full nine months very soon.”  


“Why on Earth would you do that?” Emma’s eyebrow arched. She leaned back slightly, somewhat amused.  


Killian frowned and glanced around the small balcony of their suite at Brighton. “Well, you cannot...we should not...while you’re expecting, correct?”  


Pressing her lips together, Emma stifled a giggle. “Killian, it’s perfectly safe. You needn’t worry. Besides, I hear...the hormones produced during a pregnancy can...ignite a woman’s appetite.”  


The blush which rose from his neck quickly overtook Killian’s scruffy cheeks. He cleared his throat. “I doubt I would be able to keep up with you, should your appetite increase.”  


“What can I say?” Emma teased him, sliding her hand onto his thigh and rubbing his leg slowly, “you bring it out in me.” She leaned in for another kiss, but a knock at the door to their suite caused her husband to jump from his chair. Again hiding back a giggle, Emma leaned against the back of her chair and watched as he awkwardly moved to answer the door.  


As he returned, Killian held out a letter. “Looks like your friend in New York wants to catch up again,” he smiled and sat beside her once more.  


Taking the envelope, Emma glanced at the return address. “Oh, Ella...how lovely,” she smiled and opened the wax seal on the letter before reading.  


Killian took the opportunity to pour another cup of tea for each of them. A gentle spring breeze was coming in off of the ocean. When he glanced back to Emma, he saw the color drain from her face.  


“What is it?” He slid an arm around her back and glanced at the paper, now shaking within her hand.  


For a moment she was silent, but then she drew in a deep breath and read from the handwritten letter, “In other news, which I am not sure how to classify, you should know that Neal Cassidy was killed in a bar fight just weeks ago. It seems a family member of Tamara’s sought him out upon his return to New York, and he confronted him. He was stabbed in the stomach and did not recover.”  


Killian sat in a stunned silence for a moment, trying to come up with the correct words. He rubbed Emma’s side carefully.  


“I would never wish anyone dead,” Emma said after a moment, “but I feel somewhat relieved.”  


Leaning in, Killian gave his wife a kiss upon her temple. “I’m glad he will never hurt anyone again.”  


\--  


Late in the evening, Killian held tight to Emma’s hand as the strolled along the beach, listening to the waves crash against the shore.   


“When is Regina due to give birth?” He asked as they walked amongst the smooth, multi-colored pebbles.   


“In the summer,” she replied with a smile. “June, I think.”  


“Quite soon, then,” he shook his head, “I still can’t believe Robin went and knocked her up.”  


The phrase gave Emma cause to giggle, as she usually did when his less-than-proper side came through. She loved every moment, though. It seemed to Emma that he was more of a well-rounded man, having experienced not only the finer things in life, but hardships as well. He understood the plight of the working man and managed the estate with alacrity.   


“Sorry,” he blushed, squeezing her hand with a laugh of his own. He pulled her close, pausing near the water. “I can’t help it, sometimes.”  


“Mmm, I like it,” Emma replied, sliding her arms up around his neck. “Makes me wonder about the scoundrel you used to be.”  


“Scoundrel!” He scoffed and gave her a wink, “Perhaps. Is there anything you’d like to know about that time in my life? Or...well, most of my life? I know I’ve given you a fair amount of details, but…”  


“Did you really take Milah to bed before you were wed to her?” Emma blurted, somewhat surprised by having let it slip. “I mean...I think Robin mentioned it to someone and…”  


Both eyebrows lifting, Killian nodded slowly. “It was more like...she took me. But yes, I did. Are you disappointed? Things are...different amongst the working class. Virtue of that sort is less...in demand.”  


Emma shook her head, “It’s one of those things, you know? A man is expected to take many women to bed, but a woman is expected to remain faithful to just one, beginning with her wedding night. The whole thing doesn’t quite work out, when you think about it.”  


With a shrug, Killian rubbed her back. “Well, I promise to always remain faithful to you, my darling wife. You are everything I could ever possibly want. And I want you to know that.”  


“I believe you,” Emma reassured him, “despite what I’ve said in the past. I know now that you are the most honorable of men. And I have absolute faith in your fidelity.”  


“Thank you,” he replied before giving her a slow kiss. His hand found her cheek, cupping it softly. “And I you, of course.”  


“Of course,” she blushed and returned his kiss, then grasped his hand and tugged him back up the shore toward their suite.  


As Killian closed the door to the suite behind him and shed his jacket, he found Emma practically pouncing upon him. With a surprised sound, he met her lips with his and slid his arms around her back. Emma worked at the buttons of his waistcoat, parting her lips to glide her tongue along his lower lip.  


“Mmf,” Killian pulled back slightly, completely surprised by her sudden change in demeanor, “Emma...we can’t…” He knew she was only three weeks post-operation, and Dr. Jefferson had recommended a full six weeks of recuperation.   


“I can’t,” she corrected him, pushing open the waistcoat and moving her nimble fingers to his shirt buttons, “but you can.”  


Killian’s cheeks flushed with excitement and embarrassment at the thought of what his beautiful wife had planned for him. “I-I suppose…”  


With a giggle, Emma tugged her husband toward the bed where she bid him take a seat. As he sat, she reached behind herself and tugged open the buttons of her pale pink gown. She shimmied it down to the floor, leaving her thin frame in a flimsy transparent bra and a matching pair of pink satin tap pants. She kicked off her shoes and stepped up in front of her husband, eyes focused on his deep blue gaze.   


Watching his wife strip down to her underpinnings made Killian groan low in his throat. He reached out for her as she came to him, wanting to feel the warmth of her soft, sweet-scented skin beneath his hand. He let his prosthetic rest upon his own thigh, but his right hand brushed at the exposed skin of her midriff.   


Emma leaned into his touch, arching her back slightly as she reached to run her fingers through his thick, dark hair. Killian gazed with heavily-lidded eyes at his beautiful wife, marveling at the sight of her as she removed a pin from the back of her head and allowed long, thick curls to fall over her shoulders. He sighed happily and sat up a little taller to unfasten, then tug away the barely-there brasiere she wore. With her creamy, soft breasts exposed to him, Killian wrapped both arms around her back and pulled her into him, allowing his lips to fasten around one of her pointed nipples.   


With a soft moan of contentment, Emma’s eyes fluttered and she gripped the hair at the back of his head. “You’re making me want to forget the doctor’s orders, my love,” she muttered.  


“My apologies, Lady Jones,” he replied against her skin, placing tender kisses between her breasts.   


She laughed as she climbed onto his lap, her skin tickled by the whiskers on his face. With a swing of her hips, she ground slowly against him, feeling between her thighs the way his cock stiffened inside his trousers.  


“Ugh,” Killian protested, grabbing at her hip with his hand, “Emma…”  


A few more movements of her hips, and Emma let her lips find the side of his neck. She kissed her way down through his open shirt, dragging her tongue over the line of hair that lead down to his belly button. Sliding off of his lap, she moved to her knees before him, her hands moving over his strong thighs.  


She had a growing, yearning warmth deep within her own belly, but she knew she would have to remain unsatisfied on that score for a while yet, lest they disturb the doctor’s handiwork. As her hands found the buttons on his trousers, she tugged them open and snaked her long, slender fingers inside to grasp his hard length.  


Killian hissed and tilted his head back with delight, his cock jerking at the mere touch of her hand. Taking in a deep breath, he looked back down at his beautiful wife upon her knees and ran his fingers through her long, soft, golden locks.  


With some effort, Emma tugged his trousers down around his knees and bent forward, keeping her eyes upon his as she let her tongue slide just over the head of his length, then swirl over the swollen red dome. His shivers of ecstasy urged her on. Sliding her left hand underneath his sack, she pumped his long length with her right, sliding the skin carefully over his swollen member.  


“Jesus…” Killian breathed, watching each movement of her hands and tongue with an intense gaze.   


Emma smirked, then enveloped the head of his cock with her wetted lips, pushing his length as deep inside of her mouth as she could handle. She pulled back slowly, releasing him with a loud, wet pop which caused her to blush. Her husband’s moans of pleasure coaxed her onward, and she repeated the motion, this time leaving her mouth wrapped tightly upon him to move in a steady rhythm.  


Resisting the urge to buck his hips up against her mouth and bury himself deeper was difficult. He twisted his hand into the bedsheets upon which he sat, his toes curling within his shoes. His chest heaved as he tried to maintain steady breathing - she just made it so damn difficult. Each stroke of her hand and mouth was intoxicating. He knew at this rate, he would not last long.  


Emma slid her tongue along his length as she pushed him between her taut lips, beckoning his orgasm to her with each dip of her head. She took in a deep breath before pushing his length in further, filling her throat with his rock-hard cock. The urge to gag was there, but she mentally willed it away and continued to stroke him with an ever-increasing pace.  


“Emma, I...I’m going to...oh God…” he hardly had time to warn her before she pushed him over his edge, spilling his hot seed into her throat, his body tensing.   


Slowing the strokes of her hand, Emma pulled back slowly and licked her lips, gazing up at her husband with pink cheeks. “Was that...okay?”  


Still catching his breath, Killian nodded silently, then leaned down to pull her into his lap. He kissed her deeply, pressing her body against his as he recovered from the moment. With a smile, he pulled back and leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you.”  


“I love you, too,” Emma giggled, brushing her fingers through his hair once more.  


\--  


Within the week, Lord and Lady Matlock returned home to Kentledge. Regina and Robin emerged from the main house to meet them. Regina’s belly was swollen with child, and Emma could see exhaustion upon her features.   


“Are you sure you want this?” Regina asked with a tired, yet warm smile.  


“Yes, of course,” Emma replied, giving her aunt a kiss upon her cheek. “How are you? You should be resting.”  


“I’m well,” Regina waved her away and walked back into the house with her niece. “How was Brighton?”  


“Lovely,” Emma smiled brightly and stepped into the main hall, headed for the study. She gave a nod to Mr. Gold as they passed. “Tea, please?”  


Robin patted Killian on the back as they stood outside. “Everything go well, mate?”  


“Aye,” Killian responded with a nod, “I believe so. She’s on her way to recovery. We’ll know in a few months, I suppose, if the procedure worked.”  


“I hope so,” Robin smiled, “reckon my little one’s gonna need a playmate or two.”  


A blush rose into Killian’s cheek as they headed inside, following slowly behind the ladies. “Very soon, yes? Emma said Regina is due to give birth in June?”  


“Yes, should be,” Robin nodded and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Hoping everything goes smoothly.”  


“I’ll call in Doctor Jefferson when she shows signs,” Killian smiled, “only the best for you two.”  


“Thanks, mate,” Robin stepped into the study and moved quickly to help Regina sit on the sofa. He took a place beside her as Emma busied herself with her hat and gloves.   


Killian picked up the stack of post on the desk and sorted through it, opening a few of the letters to read about the new lambs in the estate grounds, as well as a thriving market in the center of Bakewell where his tenants would be able to peddle their goods. Tea was served as Emma took a seat across from Regina, chatting idly about the progress on the nursery that was being added to the dowager house.   


“There you are,” Tink said, smiling as she entered the room with little Ian on her hip, “how was everything?” She moved to Emma, who stood, and gave her a kiss upon the cheek. Emma quickly gathered Ian into her arms with a grin, anxious to snuggle the little one.  


“Tink!” Killian smiled and moved to the group, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I’m surprised to see you still here. Is your mother due in shortly?”  


“Yes,” she said with a heavy sigh, blushing, “We will be out of your hair as soon as she arrives. I believe she’s to dock tomorrow.”  


“Oh no,” Emma pouted, letting Ian grasp and chew on her finger, “we will miss you. You must write, and we will try to visit.”  


“May be a difficult journey for you, if you’re in such a condition as I hope you to be soon,” Tink gave a wink to Emma and nudged Killian.   


Regina cleared her throat, sipping from her gold-rimmed teacup as she tried to ignore such inappropriate conversation.   


“Ah, yes,” Killian cleared his own throat and tried to hide the blush in his cheeks as he looked back to Emma, “let us hope everything went well.”  



	16. Chapter 16

June 1918, Westminster Abbey, London  


“And for bravery under heavy enemy fire,” the Prime Minister announced from his podium, “we award the Bronze Cross to The Most Honorable Marquess Killian Bertram Jones, Lord Matlock.”  


There was a smattering of applause as a visibly nervous Killian stepped up before Lord Lloyd-George and bowed his head to accept the medal as it was placed around his neck. With a slight smile he stood and turned to face the crowd. Emma sat in the second row, dabbing lightly at the corner of her eye as she watched her husband accept the award from the highest levels of the English government.  


Killian glanced at his wife, adorned in her sparkling tiara and a modest gown of cream-colored satin. She seemed to shine like the sun. Resisting the urge to wink, he carefully took his seat once more at the side of the church as the ceremony continued.  


Following the pomp and circumstance, Emma moved to Killian’s side and slid her arm into his. “You were wonderful,” she cooed into his ear.  


“Sweating like a hog,” he whispered back to her through clenched teeth as another fellow peer approached to make small talk.  


“You’ll be just fine,” she smirked and rubbed at his wrist in an attempt to calm his nerves. She watched as her husband, a former working man, easily navigated his way through conversations with the highest of society. She was exceedingly proud of him. His transition had been amazing. She had watched him from the day he first fumbled to serve tea at their meeting, to parties where he had to bite his tongue, now to becoming a decorated member of the upper crust. Despite the change in his circumstances, Killian had retained a good heart and maintained the estate so that it thrived in the war-torn economical climate.  


“Lovely pair, the two of you make,” the Duke smiled at the both of them, who gave blushing nods in return. “A fine example of the very best English breeding.”  


The Duke wandered off after a brief conversation, and Emma took the chance to assist Killian in making an escape. They walked quickly in the direction of the exit, with Emma giggling under her breath. “Probably shouldn’t burst his bubble about ‘very best English breeding’.”  


Once outdoors, Killian tugged at the stifling tie he wore around his neck and breathed in deeply. “Gods above, it’s warm.”  


“Sorry, darling,” Emma cooed, slowing her walk to a stroll once they were out of view of the front of the church. “You looked very handsome up there, though. I could barely tell how much you were shaking.”  


At the slight tease, Killian nudged her with his shoulder and laughed. “Well, I’m certainly not used to honors such as this.” He glanced down at the heavy medal which hung against his chest.  


“You earned it,” she replied, smiling. “I’m so proud of you.”  


“Thank you,” turning, Killian placed a tender kiss upon Emma’s lips. He leaned his forehead against hers and smiled softly. “Everything I have done is because of you.”  


With a happy sigh, Emma licked her lips and closed her eyes. She smiled. “Let’s get out of here.”  


Killian waved his prosthetic in the air at the edge of the busy street, hailing a cab back to the rail station so they would be able to make the three-hour journey back to Derbyshire.  


\--  


The train car came to a slow stop in Matlock station, and Killian nudged Emma awake. She had fallen asleep in his lap, her hair slightly askew from shifting in the course of her slumber.  


“Mmm,” she stretched, “are we home?”  


“Very nearly, love,” Killian smiled and reached up to help her fix her hair with a laugh, “looks as if you had a nice nap.”  


“I did, thank you,” she laughed, blushing. Killian pushed open the door to their compartment, suitcase dangling from the hook on the palm of his prosthetic, and led his wife down the stairs toward the station.  


“Shall I telephone Robin at the house, do you think?” Killian asked as the steam from the engine cleared.  


Glancing around, Emma pursed her lips. “It’s but a mile to home,” she shrugged, “let’s walk it. The wildflowers are out. I’d like to pick some for Regina’s room. She’s so exhausted on her bed rest.”  


“Good idea,” Killian smirked and took his wife’s hand, leading her to the road.  


“Do you suppose the baby will be here soon? She’s miserable, poor soul,” Emma laughed and shook her head. She held her gown from trailing the ground with one hand and her husband’s palm in the other.  


“Robin seems to think it could be shortly,” Killian replied, “I’m hoping for her sake that it is within the week.”  


“Can you imagine? Having a baby at Kentledge?” the idea thrilled Emma, and she beamed. “I cannot wait to help with it. What do you think? Boy or girl?”  


“Boy!” Killian grinned, “Robin wants a boy. I hope he can get one. Although a healthy girl would be lovely as well.”  


They left the unsaid words to sit between them, about how they would love to have one of their own; however since Emma’s procedure they had no signs of a pregnancy. Emma had resigned herself to the idea of simply raising Regina’s baby until they could adopt a war orphan to raise themselves.  


Glancing up, Killian blinked. A drop of rain hit him smack in the middle of the forehead, “Perhaps walking was not the best idea?”  


“Why is that?” A clap of thunder came from the distance just moments before the heavens opened and rain poured down around them. Emma squealed and looked around. They were nearing the estate, but would be wet-through before actually managing to reach the house.  


With a grin, he dragged her some twenty yards to a small gazebo near the edges of the garden, ducking inside to escape the sudden downpour.  


“Oh no,” Emma laughed loudly, looking down at her gown and over at her drenched husband, “We’ll be a sight.”  


“No worries, my love,” Killian winked at her and pulled her close to him, “I’ll have you out of your wet things as soon as we can get upstairs.” His lips found her neck, where he kissed at her raindrop-covered skin.  


Closing her eyes, Emma breathed in the smell of the summer rain mixed with her husband’s warm scent. She slid her hands up into his damp hair and tilted her head to the side to allow him better access to her neck. “Why should we wait?” She teased.  


Raising an eyebrow, Killian pulled back to look at his wife and smirked, “That’s a suggestion quite...outside of the norm, my love.”  


Flashing him a wicked grin, Emma bit down on her lower lip and carefully slid her hands down his shoulders. “Maybe a little...but seems unlikely we’ll be seen in such a downpour. Are you game?”  


Wordlessly, Killian caught her lips in a deep kiss, wrapping his arms around her back to press her body firmly against his own.  


She moaned against his mouth, gripping his biceps through his tweed coat before sliding her hands beneath it to push it away. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, fumbling with them for just a second before she pushed it open.  


Killian shrugged out of the jacket upon her cue, then carefully laid his beautiful wife down upon the cool stone floor of the gazebo. He tucked his jacket beneath her head with a smile, then bent low to kiss along the tops of her breasts as they barely peeked out from her gown.  


Emma sighed happily as the whiskers on Killian’s chin tickled her exposed skin. She pushed down the straps of her gown, allowing him full access to her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat the moment his lips wrapped around one of her erect nipples and she felt warmth pool deep in her belly. “Oh,” she whispered quietly, the sound of her voice nearly drowned in the roar of the rain around them.  


As he leaned over her, Killian ground his hips in slow movements against hers, his hand cupping her breast as he supported himself on his prosthetic. He moved his mouth to her other nipple, swirling his tongue over the perky nub. He felt her arching her back slightly in pleasure at his touch, and he allowed his hand to move low, grasping the satin gown to lift up onto her taut stomach.  


She felt a cool, damp summer breeze blowing into the gazebo, spreading tiny rain droplets onto her warm skin. Killian’s mouth disappeared from her bosom and she nearly opened her eyes to figure out where he had gone when she felt his hand between her thighs. With a smirk, she spread her legs wider for him.  


It always amazed Killian how beautiful she was. Head to toe she was the most amazing sight he had ever seen. Gown lifted away, he was pleased to see she had anticipated him and gone without wearing any undergarments at all. With a click of his tongue, he pressed his fingers against the slit between her thighs. His eyes took in the sight of her, legs spreading for him, splayed perfectly on the stone floor of the garden temple. If only his ancestors knew what he was up to in the structure they had placed upon the grounds. He sat back on his knees, leaning in to nuzzle at the ivory lace stockings she wore, held in place by a silk garter belt. His fingers made contact with her slick heat, and Emma moaned louder, stirring his already hardened cock. He bit on his lip and drew in a deep breath before moving down to lick at the glistening, pink nub just above her center.  


Her fingernails scraped at the stone floor of their shelter as her back arched, incredible waves of pleasure washing over her with each lap of his tongue. It was pure sin, what he could do to her body, and Emma drank up every second of it.  


The way his wife writhed in pleasure always spurred on Killian’s own desire. It did not take long for him to coax a blinding orgasm from her; no doubt the excitement of the unfamiliar setting was of assistance. Emma caught her breath upon the floor as Killian unfastened his pants and pushed them down his hips, letting his rock-hard cock finally spring free. Emma pushed herself up on her elbows and reached for him, taking his length into one hand and pumping quickly a couple of times before guiding him to her.  


“I need you,” she whispered, green eyes shining with lust, “please, Killian.”  


“You never have to beg, love,” he bent over her, capturing her lips with a deep, slow kiss as she guided him into her depths.  


The rain continued pouring as they made love beneath the roof of the gazebo, Killian pulling Emma up into his lap, her arms wrapped around the back of his neck. She moved slowly, rocking her hips up and down over his length. Her lips found his once more, parting her own to press her tongue into his mouth with a low moan of pleasure.  


Rumbles of thunder became softer and more distant as they came together, holding tightly to one another in the peaceful moment of the lazy afternoon. Emma found herself nearly dripping with sweat as she gave her husband lazy, slow kisses, still astride his lap. The rain ceased outside, and Emma sighed.  


“As much as I hate to say it, we should return to the house,” she muttered. “They’ll know the train has come and gone and we’ve not yet arrived.”  


“Yes but promise we can return here another afternoon,” Killian smiled, gazing up into her beautiful eyes. “This shall be our spot.”  


It took some moments to dress and re-arrange themselves in a presentable manner before setting out for the house. They walked hand-in-hand along the wet gravel road, nearly to the house as the evening sun came out from behind the clouds.  


The sound of a car horn blared behind them, and Killian hurriedly helped Emma aside to make way for the vehicle. Only when they noticed the driver to be Doctor Whale did the couple increase their pace up toward the house.  


\--  


“Regina!” Emma cried, hurrying into the front door of the Dowager House. She kicked her shoes aside and ran barefooted up the stairs. Doctor Whale was behind her, bag in-hand.  


“Shall I call for Dr. Jefferson?” Killian asked, stepping into the room. Regina screamed loudly where she laid in bed, clutching at the bedsheets. Emma shook her head and stepped up to her aunt’s side.  


“No time,” Emma whispered, knowing from her reading that her aunt would not be in such consistent pain, were the baby not already very close to being born.  


“Emma,” Regina gritted her teeth and breathed heavily. The doctor looked up as he settled into a chair at the foot of the bed.  


“Mrs. Locksley, I’m going to need you to breathe in deeply and keep breathing through the contractions. Breathe through the pain.” He lifted the sheet over her legs. Robin had backed up against the wall, seeming a bit overwhelmed by everything. A maid moved into the room with a large dish of steaming water.  


“Easy for you to say, Doc!” Regina spat angrily.  


“Robin,” Killian cleared his throat from the doorway, “Let’s have a drink, yes?”  


The pale man nodded quickly and ducked out of the room to allow the doctor to work.  


\--  


Hours passed, and Killian had fallen asleep on the sofa in the lounge. Robin continued to pace the floor, waiting for any kind of news. He had no idea childbirth could be such a daunting process. Finally, Emma entered the room, her hair limply framing her flushed face. She gave a sleepy smile and nodded to Robin, who rushed up the stairs.  


Robin stepped into the room, where Doctor Whale was washing his hands in a basin. Regina was propped against the headboard, a bundle in her arms.  


“Oh,” Robin whispered, moving to sit beside her on the bed. He saw a tiny red face among the blankets, and a shock of dark hair.  


“It’s a girl,” Regina cooed as she brushed her fingertip gently over the newborn’s cheek.  


The swell of pride in Robin’s chest was overwhelming. He leaned down and pressed his lips to the baby’s forehead, then repeated the gesture upon Regina’s cheek. “She’s beautiful, love. Absolutely beautiful.”  


\--  


Emma settled onto the sofa aside her husband and smiled, reaching out to place her hand over his. “Darling,” she whispered to him, rubbing at his skin.  


Killian’s eyes opened and he sat up, glancing around the room. “Is it here?”  


“Yes,” Emma smiled, squeezing his hand. “It’s a girl. They have a little girl. Healthy and beautiful.”  


“I can’t wait to meet her,” he leaned in, pressing his forehead to his wife’s.  


Emma bit down carefully on her lip and cleared her throat. “I can’t wait to meet ours.”  


Opening his eyes, Killian sighed softly. “Someday, perhaps.”  


“Doctor Whale believes...about seven months yet,” Emma replied in a whisper, maneuvering her hand to mesh her fingers with his.  


Killian was silent for a moment, then pulled back, watching her, “Wait.”  


“It worked, Killian,” Emma whispered, eyes brimming with tears, “We’re going to have a baby of our own.”  


Pulling her tightly against him, Killian released a sound of pure elation. He stood and twirled her around with a laugh. “You said nothing before!”  


“I wasn’t sure!” Emma blushed, squealing until she was firmly on her feet again. “Doctor Whale confirmed my symptoms just this evening!”  


“My God, Emma,” he brushed her hair back from her face, staring into her eyes. “You’ve made me the happiest man alive. I love you.”  


“And I love you,” she beamed, leaning up to give him a deep kiss.  



	17. Chapter 17

May 1921, Kentledge Hall   


“Ow!”  


“Don’t be such a wimp,” Anna Locksley muttered to her cousin as she dabbed at the cut on his knee with a damp cloth.   


“I am not a wimp, I’m a Lord,” Liam Jones muttered feebly, screwing up his face in irritation. His bright blue eyes were focused upon the seeping scrape upon his leg. “You cheated.”  


“Did not!” The dark-haired little girl stood tall and indignant, moving her hands to her hips. “It’s not my fault you fell!”  


“Children,” Mary-Margaret Nolan scolded them, a blonde haired-blue eyed little boy propped upon her hip as she swept into the downstairs dining area. “No sense in arguing.”  


“Sorry, Nanny,” Anna replied. She hopped up onto a chair as the raven-haired young woman sorted her own son into a high chair at the table, then examined the young master’s knee.  


“I think you’ll live, William,” she gave the older boy a wink and ruffled his dark hair. “Tea?”  


“Yes, please,” the older children replied in unison. The baby squealed in his chair and Mary-Margaret laughed.   


“None for you quite yet, Leo,” she teased her son, giving him a kiss upon the forehead.  


“Is the doctor finished with Mummy yet?” Liam asked, his eyes shining. “Daddy promised I could see her when he was done.”  


“We’re still waiting,” Mary-Margaret smiled anxiously, “I’m very sure he’ll be down to fetch you just as soon as it’s all done.”  


Anna wiggled in her seat, reaching for the sugar bowl. “I can’t wait. What do you fancy, boy or girl?”  


“Both!” Liam grinned.  


\--  


With a final scream, Emma squeezed hard around Killian’s hand. Her husband did his best not to hiss in pain, knowing very well that hers was much greater.  


“There she is,” Doctor Jefferson grinned from the end of the bed. He held up a squirming, shrieking pink infant. “A girl, your Ladyship. Well done!”  


Emma smiled and laid back, exhausted to the core. She laughed and shook her head as Killian brushed her hair back from her eyes. He bent to kiss her forehead softly.   


“You did brilliantly, my love,” he smiled, reaching for a cloth to wipe away the sweat from her brow.  


“Much more difficult than the first time,” Emma laughed, shaking her head. “I thought this was supposed to get easier.”  


“Well you did it twice this time,” Doctor Jefferson laughed, his nurse taking the bundle from his hands. She had already bathed and swaddled the first screaming babe, and now had gone to work on the second. “A very good job, your Ladyship.”  


“Thank you,” Emma smiled, relieved to be through the worst of things. The nurse brought both bundles to them after she had the babies cleaned and dressed in soft blankets. Carefully, she placed one in the arms of Emma and one with Killian.  


“Hi Clara,” Emma whispered, holding the bundle close to her chest. “I’m your Mummy.”  


Killian beamed and sat close to them, cradling his own bundle. “That must make you Evelyn,” he said to the baby, tears in his eyes. “You’re absolutely perfect, the both of you.”  


Once the bloodied blankets and sheets had been whisked from the room, Regina and Robin stepped inside. Regina’s hair was in a chic bob cut, trailing her chin. She held a large bouquet of hothouse flowers, which she placed on the table.  


“They’re gorgeous! Just like Liam was,” Regina whispered, taking one of the sleeping infants into her arms. “Oh, how tiny. So easy to forget.”  


“It is,” Emma laughed, “I had forgotten how small Liam was when he was born. I think the girls are even smaller.”  


“Well, there were two of them in the same space,” Robin chuckled softly, pushing back some of the blanket to see Clara’s face more clearly.  


“Speaking of, I should probably fetch him,” Killian stood from his seated position on the bed. “He’ll want to meet his sisters.”  


“Tell Anna she had better be behaving herself,” Robin laughed. “Those two are thick as thieves.”  


\--  


“It is with the greatest privilege that I welcome our landlord, The Right Honorable Killian Jones, and his family, to open the festival with a few words,” David Nolan stepped aside, applauding his friend as he approached the microphone. Killian pulled David into a tight embrace and smiled.  


“Good afternoon,” Killian spoke into the microphone after a moment. He cleared his throat and smirked. “I’m not very good at speeches, so please do bear with me.”  


Laughter trickled through the audience, made up of his estate’s tenants and workers.  


“Six years ago, I came to Kentledge Hall with little enthusiasm for the kind of life I now lead. I was like most of you, a hard worker and tenant under a Lord who seemed to care little for me and my efforts,” he licked his lips and took in a deep breath, “But then I placed an advertisement in the papers for a wife.”  


The crowd looked amongst one another, somewhat surprised to be hearing the story. Emma, standing at the side with a double pram, smiled softly.  


“Her Ladyship, Emma, came to Kentledge with knowledge of how these things are supposed to go. I was completely ignorant of all of it, and I had no desire to become a landlord. However, my beautiful wife, as she became, has guided me through all of the years and has taught me how to be the man I am destined to be. She took over the work of the estate while I was away at war. She brought this whole place back to life. It is really her who you all have to thank for your prosperity here. As some of you may know, we have welcomed, recently, two beautiful daughters. My son William is only four years old, but will inherit this estate when I am gone. I promise, for future generations, that I will teach him to be the kind of man you all can admire. But while we celebrate our little corner of the world, I want you all to remember that Lady Jones was the honest savior of Kentledge Hall.”  


The crowd applauded and cheered. Little Liam stepped up to his father’s side and waved shyly.  


“With that, I declare that the festival may begin!” Killian rang a bell near the stage and cheering commenced. Booths full of games and tents full of food and drink were quickly filled, allowing the tenants and workers to enjoy their day in the warm summer sun. His Lordship stepped back over to his wife and gave her a soft kiss upon her cheek.  


“You did wonderful,” Emma smiled, rubbing his arm.   


“I mean it, you know,” he said softly, staying close to her. Liam darted off the stage with Anna, weaving in and out of the crowd to spend their allowances on games of skill and chance.   


“Mean what?” she asked, rocking the pram slowly as the twins slept.  


“You’ve made me who I am supposed to be,” Killian replied, taking her free hand. “I owe everything to you.”  


Blushing, Emma squeezed his hand in return. “We make each other better.”  


The party raged well into the evening until all of the children had to be tucked into their beds. The village was easily one of the happiest and most profitable under kind assistance and leadership throughout many years. The story of the Lord and Lady of Kentledge Hall would be passed down through the family line, for many years to come.  



End file.
